LIBKARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J.         ^ 

BR   85    .S332    1867 

Shedd,  William  Greenough 

Thayer,  1820-1894. 
Discourses  and  essays 


'/ 


'   ,*^ 


DISCOURSES    AND   ESSAYS. 


BY 


WILLIAM   G.  T.  SHEDD 


BOSTON: 
DHAPEB    AND    HALLIDAY. 

PHILADELPHIA:   SMITH,  ENGLISH,  AND  CO. 
CINCINNATI :  GEO.  S.  BLANCHARD  AND  CO. 

1867. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

WARREN  F.  DRAPER. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts, 


ilfcREOTtPEi)     AV  b     PitlNTEl)     BT 
W.    F.    DEAPtR,    ANDOVER. 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


These  Discourses  and  Essays  were  collected  in  a 
volume  in  1856,  and  have  met  with  an  encouraging 
recej3tion,  considering  the  metaphysical  character  of 
mo.<t  of  them.  On  issuing  a  new  edition,  the  author 
has  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  make  some 
corrections,  and  to  add  an  Essay  upon  the  Doctrine 
of  Atonement,  which  he  has  frequently  been  urged 
to  republish.  That  the  volume  may  contribute  to  the 
spread  of  just  views  in  philosophy  and  theology,  is 
the  sincere  desire  of  the  writer. 

Andover,  Maech  27,  1861. 


(3) 


CONTENTS 


FAQS. 

THE  METHOD,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF  THEOLOGICAL  STUDIES,      7 


THE  TKUE  NATURE   OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  AND  ITS  RELA- 
TION TO    CULTURE, 63 


THE    CHARACTERISTICS,   AND    IMPORTANCE,   OF   A   NATU- 
RAL  RHETORIC, 88 

THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF  THE  HISTORIC  SPIRIT,   113 
THE  RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE,  AND  STYLE,  TO  THOUGHT,   181 

THE  DOCTRINE   OF  ORIGINAL  SIN, 218 

THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT, 272 

1# 

(5) 


"  There  is  one  department  of  knowledge,  which  like  an  ample  palace 
contains  within  itself  mansions  for  every  other  knowledge ;  which  deep- 
ens and  extends  the  interest  of  every  other,  gives  it  new  charms  and 
additional  purpose ;  the  study  of  which,  rightly  and  liberally  pursued, 
is  beyond  any  other  entertaining,  beyond  all  others  tends  at  once  to 
tranquillize  and  enliven,  to  keep  the  mind  elevated  and  steadfast,  the 
heart  humble  and  tender :  it  is  biblical  theology  —  the  philosophy  of  reli- 
gion, and  the  religion  of  philosophy."  —  Coleridge. 


(6) 


THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 
THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 


A  DISCOURSE  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  LITEIIARY  SOCIETIES  OF  TUB 
UNIVERSITY   OF  VERMONT,   AUGUST  5,  1845. 


Gentlemen  of  the  Societies  : 

The  subject  to  which  I  invite  your  attention  is  : 
The  method^  and  influence.)  of  Theological  Studies. 

Theology  more  than  any  other  science,  suffers  from 
false  views  of  its  scope  and  contents.  In  the  opinion  of 
many,  it  is  supposed  to  have  little  or  no  connection  with 
other  sciences,  and  to  exert  but  a  very  small  and  unim- 
portant influence  upon  other  departments  of  human 
knowledge.  Its  contents  are  supposed  to  be  summed 
up  in  the  truths  of  natural  theology.  It  is  thought  to  be 
that  isolated  and  lifeless  science  which  looks  merely  at 
the  natural  atti'ibutes  of  God  and  man,  and  which  con- 
sequently brings  to  view  no  higher  relations,  and  no 
deeper  knowledge,  than  those  of  mere  nature.  Of  course, 
for  such  minds  theology  must  be  a  very  unimportant  and 
simple  science,  treating  merely  of  those  superflcial  qual- 
ities which  do  not  reach  into  the  depths  of  God  and  man, 
and  of  those  merely   secondary  and   temporal   relation- 

(7) 


8  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

ships  that  rest  upon  them.  Said  a  member  of  the  Direc- 
tory appointed  by  France  during  its  Revolution  to  re- 
model Christianity,  "  I  want  a  simple  religion :  one  with 
a  couple  of  doctrines."  Theology,  as  understood  by 
many,  is  the  science  of  the  French  Director's  religion. 

But  such  is  not  the  scope,  or  the  character,  of  that 
"  sacred  and  inspired  divinity "  which  Lord  Bacon  as- 
serts to  be  "  the  sabbath  and  port  of  men's  labors  and 
peregrinations."  Nature ;  the  natural  attributes  of  God 
and  man,  and  the  natural  laws  and  relations  of  creation ; 
forms  but  a  minor  and  insignificant  part  of  its  subject 
matter.  This  lower  region  of  being  is  but  the  suburb. 
The  metropolis  and  royal  seat  of  theology  is  the  super- 
natural world ;  a  region  full  of  moral  being,  sustaining 
most  profound  and  solemn  relations  to  reason  and  law. 

Before  proceeding,  then,  to  speak  of  the  true  method 
of  theological  study,  and  of  its  great  and  noble  influ- 
ences, it  will  be  needful  to  discuss  more  at  large  the 
real  spirit  and  character  of  the  science  itself;  and  for  this 
somewhat  abstract  discussion,  I  bespeak  your  forbearing 
and  patient  attention.  It  is  needed  in  order  to  a  clear  ap- 
prehension of  the  enlarging  and  elevating  influence  of  the 
science.  Far  am  I  from  recommending  to  the  educated 
man,  the  pursuit  of  those  seemingly  religious  studies 
which  never  carry  him  out  of  the  sphere  of  natural  the- 
ology, and  which  cannot  awaken  enthusiasm  of  feehng 
or  produce  profundity  of  thought.  I  am  pleading  for 
those  really  theological  studies,  which  by  means  of  their 
supernatural  element  and  character  give  nerve  to  the  in- 
tellect and  life  to  the  heart. 

Theology  is  the  science  of  the  supernatural.  That  we 
may  obtain  a  clear  knowledge  of  its  essential  character, 
let  us  for  a  moment  consider  the  distinction  between  the 
natural  and  the  supernatural. 


OF    THKOLOGICAL    STLDIES.  9 

That  ^vhicll  makes  ihese  diffeRMit  from  <'a(li  oilier  in 
kind,  so  that  the  line  which  divides  them  divides  the 
universe  into  two  distinct  worlds,  is  this  fact:  —  the 
natural  has  no  religious  element  in  it,  while  the  super- 
natural is  entirely  composed  of  this  element.  There  is 
and  there  can  be  in  mere  nature  nothing  religious. 
There  is  and  there  can  be  in  that  which  is  supernatural 
nothing  that  is  not  religious.*  "When  we  have  said  this, 
we  have  given  the  essential  difterence  between  the  nat- 
ural and  supernatural. 

The  common  notion  that  by  the  natural  is  meant  the 
material  and  visible,  and  by  the  supernatural,  the  innna- 
terial  and  invisible,  is  false.  Nature  may  be  as  invisible 
and  immaterial  as  is  spirit.  Who  ever  saw  or  ever  will 
see  the  natural  forces  of  gravitation,  electricity,  and  mag- 
netism? Who  ever  saw  or  ever  will  see  that  natural 
principle  of  life,  of  which  all  outward  and  material  na- 
ture is  but  the  manifestation  ?  Back  of  this  world  of 
nature  which  we  apprehend  by  the  live  senses,  there  is 
an  invisible  world  which  is  nature  still ;  which  is  not  su- 
pernatural ;  neither  the  object  of  supernatural  science  nor 
of  supernatural  interests,  because  there  is  no  moral  ele- 
ment in  it.  When  we  have  stripped  the  world  of  its 
materiality,  and  have  dissolved  all  that  is  visible  into 
unseen  forces  and  vital  laws,  we  have  not  reached  any 
higher  region  than  that  of  nnture.  We  have  not  yet 
entered  the  supernatural  and  religious  world.  He  who 
worships  the  vital  principle  or  adores  the  force  of  gi'avity; 
nay,  he  who  has  no  higher  emotions  than  those  of  the 
natural  religionist,  which  are  called  forth  by  the  beauty 


*  Religion  is  fiom  reliijo: — natural  laws  have  no  rch'qioim.  or  hindiiig 
force,  and  in  the  sphere  of  nature  there  can  be  no  such  thiii;,'s  as  dntij.  <juHt^ 
or  p-aiseworthiness. 


10 


THE    iMETHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 


and  glory  of  visibk  nature,  or  by  the  cloudy  and  mystic 
awfalness  of  invisible  nature,  is  as  really  an  idolater,  as 
is  the  most  debased  heathen  who  bows  down  before  a 
visible  and  material  idol.  And  that  system  of  thought 
which  never  rises  into  the  world  of  moral  or  supernatural 
reality,  is  as  truly  material  (whatever  may  be  its  profes- 
sions to  the  contrary),  as  is  the  most  open  and  avowed 
materialism. 

It  seems  like  stating  truisms  to  make  such  statements  as 
these  ;  and  yet  some  of  the  most  seductive  and  far-reach- 
ing errors  in  philosophy  and  theology  have  arisen  from 
the  non-recognition,  or  the  denial,  of  any  thing  highei 
than  invisible  nature.  Ideal  Pantheism,  a  system  receiv. 
ed  by  minds  of  a  really  profound  order,  and  which  boasts^ 
of  its  spirituality,  results  from  the  error  in  question, 
rience,  although  it  admits  of,  and  produces,  a  mystic 
adoration  and  a  vague  dreamy  awe,  it  is  utterly  incom- 
patible with  really  spiritual  feeling  and  truly  moral 
emotion. 

But  the  reality,  and  nature,  of  the  distinction  between 
the  natural  and  supernatural,  is  still  more  clearly  seen 
by  a  contemplation  of  the  Divine  attributes ;  partly  be- 
cause at  this  point  the  distinction  itself  is  more  marked 
and  plain,  and  partly  because  from  this  point  the  vital 
errors  in  theological  and  })hilosophical  science  take  their 
start. 

Although,  at  first  sight,  it  may  appear  bold  and  irrev- 
erent, yet  a  thorough  investigation  will  show  that  it  re- 
sults in  the  only  true  fear  and  adoration  of  God,  to  say 
that  his  natural  attributes  considered  by  themselves  are 
of  no  importance  at  all  for  a  moral  being.  Taken  by 
themselves,  they  have  no  religious  quality,  and  therefore, 
as  such,  cannot  be  the  ground  of  theological  science  or 
religious  feeling.     Considered  apart  from  his  supernatural 


OF    THKO LOGICAL    STUDIES.  11 

attributes,  what  meaning  have  the  oiniiipresenee,  the 
omnipotence,  and  even  the  adaptive  intelligence,  of  the 
Deity,  for  me  as  a  religious  being?  Of  what  interest,  is 
the  possessor  of  these  merely  natural  attributes,  to  me  as 
a  rational  and  moral  being,  until  I  know  the  supernal' 
ural  character  and  person  v^Ynoh.  reside  in  them,  and  make 
them  the  vehicle  of  their  operations  ?  I  may  see  the  ex- 
hibitions of  Infinite  Power  in  the  heavens  above  me,  and 
on  the  earth  around  me ;  I  may  detect  the  work  of  an 
Infinite  Intelligence  in  this  world  of  matchless  design 
and  order ;  but  what  are  these  isolated  qualities  to  me  as 
one  who  possesses  moral  reason  and  sustains  super  natural 
relations  ?  Let  that  Infinite  Power  thnnder  and  flash 
through  the  skies,  and  let  that  Infinite  Intelligence  clothe 
the  world  in  beauty  and  glory ;  these  merely  natural 
attributes  are  nothing  to  me,  in  a  religious  point  of  view, 
until  I  know  ivho  wields  them,  and  what  supernatural  and 
holy  attributes  make  them  their  bearer  and  agent.  I'hen 
will  I  fear  spiritually,  and  then  will  I  adore  morally. 

This  fundamental  distinction  between  the  natia-al  and 
the  supernatural  is  of  vital  importance  to  theological  sci- 
ence. If  not  clearly  seen  and  rigidly  recognized  in  the- 
ology, this  science  comes  to  be  nothing  more  than  an 
investigation  of  the  natural  attributes  of  the  Deity,  and 
treats  merely  of  those  relations  of  man  to  the  Creator, 
which  the  vilest  reptile  that  crawls  has  in  conmion  with 
him.  For  if  we  set  aside  the  supernatural  attributes  of 
God,  man  sustains  only  the  same  relations  to  him  that 
the  brute  does.  He,  in  common  with  the  brutes  that  per- 
ish, is  the  creature  of  the  Divine  Power,  and  in  common 
with  them  is  sustained  by  the  Divine  Intelligence ;  that 
attribute  which  causes  merely  natural  wants  to  be  sup- 
plied by  their  con*elative  objects.  The  mere  superven- 
tion of  consciousness  will  make  no  dift'erence  between 


12  THE  mi:thod,  and  influence, 

man  and  brute  in  relation  to  the  Deity,  unless  conscious- 
ness bring  with  it  the  knowledge  of  his  higher  svpernat' 
ural  attributes.  If  we  set  aside  his  relations  to  the  Wis- 
dom, Holiness,  Justice  and  Mercy  of  God,  we  find  man 
on  a  level  with  brute  existence  in  all  respects.  Ho 
comes  into  being,  reaches  his  maturity,  declines,  and  dies, 
as  they  do,  by  the  operation  of  the  natural  attributes  of 
the  Creator  manifesting  themselves  in  natural  laws,  and 
this  is  all  that  can  be  said  of  him  in  reference  to  his 
Maker. 

The  more  we  contemplate  the  Divine  Being,  the  more 
clearly  do  we  see  that  his  supernatural  are  his  constitut- 
ing attributes  ;  the  very  Divinity  of  the  Deity.  If  they 
are  denied,  the  Creator  is  immediately  confounded  with 
the  creature ;  for  his  natural  attributes,  without  his  moral 
ones,  become  the  soul  of  the  world,  its  blind,  though 
unerring  principle  of  life.  Or  if  they  are  misapprehend- 
ed, and  the  difterence  between  the  two  classes  is  sup- 
posed to  be  only  one  of  degree,  and  consequently  that 
there  is  no  essential  distinction  between  nature  and 
spirit,  fatal  errors  will  inevitably  be  the  result.  There 
will  be  no  sharply  and  firmly  drawn  line  between  the 
natural  and  spiritual  worlds,  natural  and  spiritual  laws, 
and  natural  and  spiritual  relationships.  A  mere  natural- 
ism must  run  through  theology,  philosophy,  science,  lit- 
erature and  art,  depriving  each  and  all  of  them  of  their 
noblest  characteristics. 

The  reality  and  importance  of  this  distinction  be- 
tween the  natural  and  the  supernatural,  are  to  be  seen 
in  a  less  abstract  and  more  interesting  manner  in  the  ac- 
tual life  of  men.  Man  is  by  creation  a  religious  being  ; 
and  even  in  his  religion  we  discover  his  proneness  to 
deny  or  misapprehend  the  distinction  in  question.  The 
religion  of  the  natural  man  is  strictly  natural  religion.    It 


OF    THEOLOGICAL     STUDIES.  13 

refers  solely  to  the  natural  attributes  of  God.  There  is 
no  man  who  is  not  pleasurably  affected  by  the  manifes- 
tation of  the  Power  and  intelligent  Design  of  the  Deity, 
as  seen  in  the  natural  world ;  and  all  men  who  have  not 
been  taught  experimentally,  that  there  are  higher  attri- 
butes than  these,  and  a  higher  religion  than  this,  are  con- 
tent with  such  religion.  "  As  is  the  earthy,  such  are 
they  that  are  earthy."  They  are  strictly  natural  men,  and 
seek  that  in  God  which  coiTcsponds  to  their  character. 
The  spirit,  or  the  supernatural  part  of  man,  has  not  yet 
been  renewed  and  vivified  by  a  supernatural  influence, 
and  therefore  there  is  no  search  after  the  spiritual  attri- 
butes of  God.  The  moment  that  the  supernatural  dawns 
upon  such  men,  and  the  moral  attributes  of  God  appear 
in  their  awfiU  and  solemn  relations  to  law,  guilt,  and 
atonement,  they  are  troubled  ;  and  unless  mercifully 
prevented,  descend  into  the  low  regions  of  nature,  to 
escape  from  a  light  and  a  purity  which  they  cannot 
endure. 

It  will  be  evident  even  from  this  brief  discussion  that 
the  distinction  bet^veen  the  natural  and  the  supernatural 
is  a  valid  and  fundamental  one ;  that  the  natural  world 
is  essentially  different  from  the  supernatural,  and  that 
theology,  as  the  science  of  the  supernatural,  possesses 
a  scope,  contents,  and  influence,  as  vast  and  solemn  as 
the  field  of  its  inquiry. 

And  think  for  a  moment  what  this  field  is  I  It  is  not 
the  earth  we  tread  upon,  nor  the  heavens  that  are  bent 
over  it,  all  beautiful  and  glorious  as  they  are.  It  is  not 
that  unseen  world  of  living  forces  and  active  laws  which 
lies  under  the  visible  universe,  giving  it  existence  and 
causing  its  manifold  motions  and  changes.  This  is  in- 
deed a  deeply  mysterious  realm,  and  is  a  step  nearer  the 
Eternal  than  all   that  we  see  with  the  eye  or  touch  with 


14  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

the  hand  is  ;  but  it  is  not  the  proper  home  of  theological 
inquiry. 

Above  the  kingdoms  of  visible  and  invisible  nature, 
there  is  a  world  which  is  the  residence  of  a  personal  God, 
with  supernatural  attributes,  and  the  seat  of  spiritual 
ideas,  laws,  and  relations.  It  is,  to  use  the  language  of 
Plato,  "  that  super-celestial  place  which  no  one  of  the 
poets  has  hitherto  worthily  sung,  or  ever  will,"  where  right- 
eousness itself,  true  wisdom  and  knowledge,  are  to  be 
seen  in  their  very  essence.*  This  is  the  proper  field  of 
theological  inquiry,  and  as  the  mind  ranges  through  it,  it 
comes  in  sight  of  all  that  invests  man's  spirit  with  infi- 
nite responsibilities,  and  renders  human  existence  one  of 
awful  interest. 

But  what  is  the  proper  method  of  theological  studies  ? 

If  what  has  been  said  relative  to  the  two  great  king- 
doms into  which  the  universe  is  divided,  be  true,  it  is 
plain  that  theological  studies  must  commence  in  that 
supernatural  world  whose  realities  form  its  subject  mat- 
ter, and  that  the  true  m^ethod  is  to  descend  from'  spirit 
to  nature,  in  our  investigations.  The  contrary  process 
has  been  in  vogue  for  the  last  century  and  a  half,  and 
the  saying  "from  nature  we  ascend  to  nature's  God," 
has  come  to  be  received  as  an  axiom  in  theological 
science. 

If  this  assertion  means  anything,  it  means  that  by  a 
careful  observation  of  all  that  we  can  apprehend  by  the 
five  senses,  in  space,  we  shall  obtain  a  correct  and  full 
knowledge  of  God.  The  spirit  of  the  assertion  is  this  : 
Nature  is  first  in  the.  order  of  investigation,  becaXise 
its  teachings  are  more  sm-ely  correct,  and  its  proofs  are 

*  Phaedrus.     Opera  viii.  p.  30.     See  the  whole  of  the  beautiful  descrip 
tion  of  this  vvepovpdvios  tc^ttos;  a  passage  vividly  reminding  of  1  Cor.  ii. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 


15 


more  to  be  relied  on,  than  those  of  the  supernatural. 
Let  us  test  it  by  rigidly  applying  it  to  the  investigation 
of  the  beins:  and  character  of  God.  What  is  there  in 
nature  which  teaches,  or  proves,  the  existence  of  r 
Holiness  of  God  ;  or  his  Justice  ;  or  his  Mercy  ?  What 
is  there  in  the  world  in  which  we  live  as  beings  of  nature 
aiid  sense,  which  necessarily  compels  us  to  assume  the 
personality  of  God  ?  It  is  true  that  we  are  taught  by 
all  that  exists  in  "  the  mighty  world  of  eye  and  ear,"  that 
there  are  povrer  and  adaptive  intelligence  someivhere,  but 
whether  they  are  seated  in  a  self-conscious  and  personal 
being,  or  are  only  the  eternal  procession  of  a  blind  and 
unconscious  life,  we  cannot  know  anything  that  nature 
teaches.  You  see  a  movement  in  the  natural  w^orld: 
say  the  gi'owth  of  a  plant  or  the  blowing  of  a  flower. 
What  does  that  natural  movement  teach  (considered 
dmply  by  itself,  and  with  no  reference  to  a  higher 
knovvledge  from  another  source,)  and  what  have  you  a 
right  to  infer  from  it  ?  Simply  this  :  that  there  is  a  merely 
natural  power  adequate  to  its  production ;  but  w^hether 
that  power  has  any  connection  with  the  moral  character 
of  a  spiritual  person^  you  cannot  know  from  anything 
you  see  in  the  natural  phenomenon.  Now  extend  this 
through  infinite  space,  and  will  the  closest  examination 
cf  all  the  physical  movements  occurring  in  this  vast  do- 
main, taken  by  itself  lead  up  to  a  personal  and  holy 
God  ?  What  is  there  in  the  law  of  gravity  which  has 
the  least  tendency  to  lead  to  the  recognition  of  the  law 
of  holiness  ?  Is  there  any  similarity  between  the  two  in 
kind  ?  What  can  the  motions  of  the  sun  and  stars, 
the  unvarying  return  of  the  seasons,  the  birth,  growth, 
and  death,  of  animated  existence,  taken  by  themselves^ 
teach  regarding  the  supernatural  attributes  of  God  ? 
Take   away  from  man  the  knowledge  of  God  which  is 


16  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

contained  in  the  human  spirit  and  in  the  written  word, 
and  leave  him  to  find  his  way  up  to  a  personal  and  spir- 
itual Deity  by  the  light  of  nature  alone,  and  he  will 
grope  in  eternal  darkness,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because 
he  cannot  even  get  the  idea  of  such  a  Being. 

For  the  truth  is,  that  between  the  two  kingdoms  of 
nature  and  spirit  a  great  gulf  is  fixed,  and  the  passage 
from  one  to  the  other  is  not  by  degrees,  but  by  a  leap  ; 
and  this  leap  is  not  up,  but  down.  There  is  one  theory 
which  assumes  that  the  universe  is  but  the  development 
of  one  only  substance  ;  and  if  this  is  a  correct  theory, 
then  it  is  true  that  we  can  "  ascend  from  nature  up  to 
nature's  God."  For  all  is  continuous  development,  with 
no  chasm  intervening,  and  the  height  may  consequently 
be  reached  from  the  bottom  by  a  patient  ascent.  There 
is  another  and  the  true  theory,  which  rejects  this  doc- 
trine of  development,  and  substitutes  in  its  place  that  of 
creation,  whereby  nature  is  not  an  emanation,  but  springs 
forth  into  existence  for  the  first  time,  at  the  fiat  of  the 
Creator,  w^ho  is  now  distinct  from  the  work  of  his  hands. 
Nature  is  now,  in  a  certain  sense,  separate  from  God, 
and  instead  of  being  able  to  prove  his  moral  existence, 
or  to  manifest  his  supernatural  and  constituting  attri- 
butes, requires  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  Creator, 
from  another  source,  in  order  to  its  own  true  apprehen- 
sion.* 

Now  the  true  method  of  obtaining  a  correct  knowledge 
of  an  object,  is  to  follow  the  method  of  its  origin,  and 
therefore  true  theological  science  follows  the  footsteps  of 

*  Whether  the  absolute  is  the  ground  or  the  cause  is  the  question  which 
has  ever  divided  philosophei's.  That  it  is  the  ground  but  not  the  cause  is 
the  assertion  of  Naturalism  ;  that  it  is  the  cause  and  not  the  ground  is  the 
assertion  of  Theism.  Jacobi.  Von  den  Giitt.  Dingen.  Werke.  iii.  404,  to- 
gether with  the  references. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  17 

God.  It  slarls  wiih  the  assumption  of  his  existence, 
and  the  knowledge  of  his  character  derived  from  a  higher 
source  than  that  of  mere  nature,  that  it  may  find  in  the 
works  of  his  hands  the  illustration  of  his  already  known 
attributes,  and  the  manifestation  of  his  already  be- 
lieved being.  True  theology  descends  from  God  to 
nature,  and  rectifies  and  interprets  all  that  it  finds  in  this 
complicated  and  perplexing  domain,  by  what  it  knows 
of  its  Maker  from  other  and  higher  sources. 

Take  away  from  the  human  spirit  that  knowledge  of 
the  moral  attributes  of  God  which  it  has  from  its  consti- 
tution, and  from  revelation,  and  compel  it  to  deduce  the 
character  of  the  Supreme  Being  from  what  it  sees  in 
the  natural  world,  and  will  it  not  inevitably  become 
skeptical  ?  As  the  thoughtful  heathen  looked  abroad 
over  a  world  of  pain  and  death,  was  he  not  forced  reso- 
lutely to  reject  the  natural  inference  to  be  drawn  from  this 
sight,  and  to  cling  with  desperate  faith  to  the  dictum  of  a 
voice  speaking  from  another  quarter,  saying :  "  see  what 
thou  mayest  in  nature  apparently  to  the  contrary,  He  is 
Just ;  He  is  Holy ;  He  is  Good." 

This  false  method  of  theological  study  proceeds  from 
a  belief  common  to  man,  resulting  partly  from  his  cor- 
ruption and  partly  from  his  present  existence  in  a  world 
of  sense.  It  is  the  common  belief  of  man  that  reality  in 
the  strictest  sense  of  the  term  is  to  be  predicated  of  ma- 
terial things,  and  in  his  ordinary  thought  and  feeling,  that 
which  is  spiritual  is  unreal.  The  solid  earth  which  the 
"  swain  treads  upon  with  his  clouted  shoon "  has  sub- 
stantial existence,  and  its  material  objects  are  real,  but 
if  we  watch  the  common  human  feeling  regarding  such 
objects  as  the  soul  and  God,  we  detect  (not  necessarily 
a  known  and  determined  infidelity,  but)  an  inability  to 
make   them  as  real   and  substantial  as  the   sun  in  the 

2* 


18  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

heavens,  or  the  earth  under  foot.  Lord  Bacjn  in  de- 
scribing the  idols  of  the  tribe ;  the  false  notions  which 
are  inherent  in  human  nature  ;  says,  that  "  man's  sense 
is  falsely  asserted  to  be  the  standard  of  things."  *  It  is, 
however,  under  the  influence  of  the  notion  that  it  is, 
that  man  goes  to  the  investigation  of  truth,  and  espe- 
cially of  theological  truth.  Every  thing  is  determined 
by  a  material  standard,  and  established  from  the  position 
of  materialism.  It  is  assumed  that  nature  is  more  real 
than  spirit ;  that  its  instructions  and  evidences  are  more 
to  be  relied  on  than  those  of  spirit ;  and  that  from  it,  as 
from  the  only  sure  foothold  for  investigation,  we  are  to 
make  hurried  and  timid  excm'sions  into  that  dim  undis- 
covered realm  of  the  supernatural  w^hich  is  airy  and  un- 
real, and  filled  with  airy  and  unreal  objects. 

This  is  a  low  and  mean  idol,  and  if  the  inquirer  after 
spiritual  truth  bows  down  to  it  he  shall  never  enter  the 
holy  of  holies.  Spirit  is  more  real  than  matter,  for  God 
is  a  spirit.  Supernatural  laws  and  relations  are  more 
real  than  those  of  nature,  for  they  shall  exist  when  na- 
ture, even  to  its  elements,  shall  be  melted  with  fervent 
heat. 

Why  then  should  we,  as  did  the  pagan  mythology, 
make  earth  and  the  earth-born  Atlas  support  the  old  ev- 
erlasting heavens?  They  are  self-supported  and  em- 
bosom and  illumine  all  things  else.  Why  should  we 
attempt  to  rest  spiritual  science  upon  natuial  science  ; 
the  eternal  upon  the  temporal ;  the  absolute  upon  the 
empirical ;  the  certain  upon  the  uncertain  ?  Is  all  that 
is  invisible  unreal,  and  must  a  thing  become  the  object 
of  the  five  senses,  before  we  can  be  certain  of  its  reality  ? 
Not  to  go  out  of  the  natural  world ;  by  what  hi  this  do- 

'*  Novum  Organum,  Aph.  41. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 


19 


main  are  we  most  vividly  impressed  with  the  conception 
of  reality,  and  how  is  the  notion  of  power  awakened  ? 
Not  by  anything  we  see  with  the  eye  or  touch  with  the 
hand,  but  by  the  knowledge  of  that  unseen  force  and  law 
which  causes  the  motions  of  the  heavens,  and  makes  the 
"  crystal  spheres  ring  out  their  silver  chimes."  Not  by 
an  examination  of  the  phenomena  of  the  mineral,  vege- 
table, and  animal  kingdoms,  but  by  the  idea  of  that  one 
vast  invisible  life  manifesting  itself  in  them.  Even  here, 
upon  a  thoughtful  reflection,  that  which  is  unseen  shows 
itself  to  be  the  true  reality.  And  to  go  up  higher  into 
the  sphere  of  human  existence  :  where  is  the  substantial 
reality  of  man's  being  ?  In  that  path  which,  in  the  'aii- 
guage  of  Job,  "  no  fowl  knoweth,  and  which  the  vulture'? 
eye  hath  not  seen."  In  that  unseen  world  where  human 
thought  ranges,  where  human  feelings  swell  into  a  vast- 
ness  not  to  be  contained  by  the  great  globe  itself,  and 
where  human  affections  soar  away  into  eternity.  No ! 
reality  in  the  high  sense  of  the  term  belongs  to  the  invis- 
ible, and  in  the  very  highest  sense,  to  the  invisible  things 
of  the  supernatural  world.  There  is  more  of  reality  in 
the  feeblest  finite  spirit  than  in  all  the  material  universe, 
for  it  will  survive  "  the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crash  of 
worlds."  The  supernatural  is  a  firmer  foundation  upon 
which  to  establish  science  than  is  the  natural ;  its  data 
are  more  certain,  and  its  testimony  more  sure  than  those 
of  nature.  None  but  an  open  ear,  it  is  true,  can  hear  the 
voices  and  the  dicta  that  come  from  this  highest  world, 
but  he  who  has  once  heard  never  asfain  doubts  reCTardins: 
them.  He  cannot  doubt,  if  he  would.  He  has  heard  the 
tones,  and  they  will  continue  to  sound  through  his  soul, 
with  louder  and  louder  reverberations,  through  its  whole 
immortality. 

Perhaps  it   will   be   objected  that,  granting   spiritual 


20  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

things  to  be  the  true  realities,  yet  the  mind  cannot  see 
them  except  through  a  medium,  and  cannot  be  certain 
of  their  existence  except  by  means  of  deductions  from  a 
palpable  and  tangible  reality  like  that  of  the  material 
world.  But  is  it  so  ?  Does  the  spirit  need  a  medium 
through  which  to  behold  the  idea  and  law  of  Kight,  for 
example  ;  and  must  it  build  up  a  series  of  conclusions 
based  upon  deductions  drawn  from  the  world  of  sense, 
before  it  can  be  certain  that  there  is  any  such  reality  ?  — 
Does  not  the  human  spirit  see  the  idea  of  Right  as 
directly  and  plainly  as  the  material  eye  sees  the  sun  at 
high  noon ;  and  when  it  sees  it,  is  it  not  as  certain  of  its 
existence  as  we  are  of  that  of  the  sun  ?  If  man  does  not 
see  this  spiritual  entity,  this  supernatural  idea,  directly 
and  without  a  medium,  he  will  never  see  it,  and  if  it 
does  not  of  itself  convey  the  evidence  of  its  reality,  it  can 
be  drawn  from  no  other  quarter. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  all  spiritual  entities  what- 
ever ;  of  all  the  objects  of  the  supernatural  world.  The 
rational  spirit  may  and  must  behold  them  by  direct  intui- 
tion in  their  own  pure  white  light.  It  has  the  organ  for 
doing  this.  Not  more  certainly  is  the  material  eye 
designed  for  the  vision  of  the  sun,  than  the  rational  spirit 
is  designed  for  the  vision  of  God.  The  former  is  ex- 
pressly constructed  to  behold  matter,  and  the  latter  is 
just  as  expressly  constructed  to  behold  spirit.  Nor  let  it 
be  supposed  that  the  term  "  behold  "  is  used  literally  in 
reference  to  the  act  of  the  material  eye,  and  merely 
metaphorically  in  reference  to  the  act  of  the  spirit.  The 
term  is  no  more  the  exclusive  property  of  one  organ  than 
of  the  other.  Or  if  it  is  to  belong  to  one  exclusively  let 
us  rather  appropriate  it  to  that  organ  which  sees  eternal 
distinctions.     If  the  term  "  sight "  is  ever  metaphorical, 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 


21 


surely  it  is  not  so  when  applied  to  the  vision  of  inurmla- 
ble  truths  and  everlasting  realities. 

Man,  both  by  nature  and  by  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  is  placed,  finds  it  difficult  thus  to  contemplate 
abstract  ideal  truth,  and  when  it  eludes  his  imperfect 
vision  he  charges  the  difficulty  upon  the  truth  and  not 
upon  liimself.  But  for  all  this  the  ideal  is  real,  and  man 
is  capable  of  this  abstract  vision.  Upon  his  ability  to 
free  himself  from  the  disturbing  influences  of  sense,  to  be 
independent  of  the  physical  senses  in  the  investigation 
of  spiritual  things,  and  to  see  them  in  their  own  light  by 
their  correlative  organ,  depends  his  tiiie  knowledge  of  the 
supernatural.  It  is  on  this  ground  that  Plato  asserts  it 
to  be  the  true  mark  of  a  philosophic  mind  to  desire  to 
die,  because  the  mind  is  thereby  withdrawn  from  the  dis- 
traction of  sense,  and  in  the  spiritual  world  beholds  the 
Beautiful,  the  True,  and  the  Good,  in  their  essence.  — 
Hence  with  great  force  he  represents  those  spirits  which 
have  not  been  entirely  freed  from  the  crass  and  sensuous 
nature  of  the  body,  as  being  afraid  of  the  purely  spiritual 
world  and  its  supernatural  objects,  and  as  returning  into 
the  world  of  matter  to  wander  as  ghosts  among  tombs 
and  graves,  loving  their  old  material  dwelling  more  than 
the  spirit-land.* 

The  knowledge  which  comes  from  a  direct  vision  of 
spiritual  objects  is  sure,  and  needs  no  evidence  of  its 
truth  from  a  lower  domain.  He  who  has  once  in  spirit 
obtained  a  distinct  sight  of  such  realities  as  the  Good, 
the  Beautiful,  the  True,  and  their  contraries,  will  never 
again  be  in  doubt  of  their  existence,  or  as  to  Iheii'  natures. 
These  are  entities  which  once  seen  compel  an  everlast- 
ing belief.     These  are  objects 

*  Phaedon,  Opera  I.  pp.  115   i  IC,  139. 


22  THE     METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

*        ^        *        *        *        that  wake 
,  To  perish  never ; 

Which  neither  listlessness  nor  mad  endeavor, 

Nor  man  nor  boy, 
Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy, 
Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy. 

The  true  method  then  of  theological  studies  is  to  com- 
mence in  and  with  the  supernatural  and  to  work  outward 
and  downward  to  the  natural.  The  theologian  must 
study  his  own  spirit  by  the  aid  of  the  written  word.  He 
will  ever  find  the  two  in  perfect  harmony  and  mutually 
confirming  each  other.  The  supernatural  doctrines  of 
theology  must  be  seen  in  their  own  light ;  must  bring 
their  own  evidence  with  them,  and  theology  must  be  a 
self-supported  science. 

Whatever  may  be  said  in  opposition  to  this  method 
by  those  who  magnify  natural  theology  to  the  injury  of 
spiritual  religion,  it  has  always  been  the  method  of  in- 
quiry employed  by  the  profoundest  and  most  accurate 
theologians.  Augustine  lived  at  a  period  when  natural 
science  was  but  little  cultivated  and  advanced,  but  even 
if  he  had  possessed  all  the  physical  knowledge  of  the 
present  day,  that  inward  experience  with  its  throes, 
agonies,  and  joys,  so  vividly  portrayed  in  his  "  Confes- 
sions," would  still  have  kept  his  eye  turned  inward.  The 
power  of  Luther  and  Calvin  lies  in  their  realizing  views 
of  supernatural  objects  seen  by  their  own  light;  and 
nothing  but  an  absolutely  abstract  and  direct  beholding 
of  supernatural  realities  could  have  produced  the  calm 
assurance  and  profound  theology  of  that  loftiest  of  human 
spirits,  John  Howe. 

But  what  has  been  the  result  of  the  contrary  method  ? 
Have  not  those  who  commenced  with  the  study  of 
natural  theology,  and  who  made  this  the  foundation  of 
their  inquiries  into  the  nature  and  mutual  relations  of 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  2J 

God  and  man,  always  remained  on  the  spot  where  they 
first  stationed  themselves  ?  Did  they,  by  logically  fol- 
lowing their  assmned  method,  ever  rise  above  the  sphere 
of  merely  natiu*al  religion  into  that  of  supernatural,  and 
obtain  just  views  either  of  the  Infinite  Spirit  as  personal 
and  therefore  tri-une ;  or  of  the  Finite  Spirit  as  free,  re- 
sponsible and  guilty  ?  Did  they  ever  acquire  rational 
views  of  holy  and  just  law ;  of  law  as  strictly  supernatu- 
ral; and  so  of  its  relations  to  guilt  and  expiation  ? 

An  undue  study  of  natural  science  inevitably  leads  to 
wrong  theological  opinions.  Unless  it  be  pursued  in  the 
light  which  spirit  casts  upon  nature,  the  student  will 
misapprehend  both  nature  and  spirit.  Who  can  doubt 
that  if  Priestley  had  devoted  less  time  to  the  phenomena 
of  the  natural  world,  and  far  more  to  those  of  the  super- 
natural ;  less  attention  to  physical  laws  as  seen  in  the 
operations  of  acids  and  alkalies,  and  far  more  attention 
to  the  operation  of  a  spiritual  law  as  revealed  in  a  guilty 
conscience ;  he  would  have  left  a  theology  far  more 
nearly  conformed  to  the  word  of  God  and  the  sti'ucture 
of  the  human  spirit. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  speaking  of  the  super- 
natural element  in  theological  studies,  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  where  their  power  lies,  and  whence  their  influ- 
ence comes.  I  turn  now  to  consider  the  influence  of 
these  studies  as  they  have  been  characterized,  upon  edu- 
cation and  the  educated  class  in  the  state. 

Genuine  education  is  immediately  concerned  with  the 
essence  of  the  mind  itself,  and  its  power  and  work  appear 
in  the  very  substance  of  the  understanding.  It  starts 
into  exercise  deeper  powers  than  the  memory,  and  it  does 
more  for  the  mind  than  merely  to  fill  it.  It  enters  rather 
into  its  constituent  and  controlling  principles;  rouses 
and  develops  them,  and  thus  establishes   a  basis  for  the 


24  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

mind's  perpetual  motion  and  progress.  Whether  there 
be  much  or  little  acquired  information  is  of  small  import- 
ance, comparatively,  if  the  mind  has  that  which  is  the 
secret  of  mental  superiority,  the  power  of  originating 
knowledge  upon  a  given  subject  for  itself,  and  can  fall 
back  upon  its  own  native  energies  for  information.  That 
process  whereby  a  mind  acquires  the  ability  to  fasten 
itself  with  absorbing  intensity  upon  any  legitimate 
object  of  human  inquiry,  and  to  originate  profound 
thought  and  clear  conceptions  regarding  it,  is  education. 

The  truth  of  this  assertion  will  be  apparent  if  we  bear 
in  mind  that  knowledge,  in  the  high  sense  of  the  term, 
is  not  the  remembrance  of  facts,  but  the  intuition  of  prin- 
ciples. Facts  are  that  through  which  principles  manifest 
themselves,  and  by  which  they  are  illustrated,  but  to  take 
them  for  the  essence  of  knowledge  is  to  mistake  the 
body  for  the  soul.  The  true  knowledge  of  nature,  art, 
philosophy,  and  religion,  is  an  insight  into  their  constitu- 
ent principles,  of  which  facts  and  phenomena  are  but  the 
raiment ;  the  "  white  and  glistering "  raiment  in  which 
the  essence  is  transfigured  and  through  which  it  shines. 

Now,  principles  are  entities  that  do  not  exist  either  in 
space  or  time.  They  cannot  be  apprehended  by  any 
organ  of  sense,  and  therefore  they  are  not  in  space.  — 
They  cannot  in  a  literal  sense  be  said  to  be  old  or  new. 
Principles  are  eternal  and  therefore  they  are  not  in  time. 
Where  then  are  they  ?  In  the  intellectual  world  :  —  a 
world  that  is  not  measured  by  space  or  limited  by 
periods  of  time,  but  which  has,  nevertheless,  as  real  an 
existence  as  this  globe.  In  the  world  of  mind,  all  those 
principles  which  constitute  knowledge  are  to  be  sought 
for.  They  lie  in  the  structure  of  mind,  and  therefore  the 
development  of  the  mind  is  but  the  discovery  of  princi- 
ples,  and    education   is   the   origination   of    substantial 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  25 

knowledge  out  of  the  very  being  who  is  to  be  educat- 
ed.* 

Thus,  by  this  brief  examination  of  the  true  nature  of 
knowledge,  do  we  come  round  in  a  full  circle  to  the  spot 
whence  we  started,  and  see  that  he  alone  is  in  the  pro- 
cess of  true  education  who  is  continually  looking  within, 
and  by  the  gradual  evolution  of  his  own  mind  is  continu- 
ally unfolding  those  principles  of  knowledge  that  lie 
imbedded  in  it.  Such  an  one  may  not  have  amassed 
great  erudition,  but  he  possesses  a  working  intellect 
which,  unencumbered  by  amassed  materials,  overflows 
all  the  more  freely  with  original  principles.  We  feel 
that  such  a  mind  is  educated,  for  its  products,  are  alive 
and  communicate  life.  From  a  living  impulse  it  origin- 
ates a  knowledge,  regarding  any  particular  subject  to 
which  it  directs  itself,  that  commends  itself  to  us  as  truth, 
by  its  congeniality  and  affinity  with  our  own  mind,  and 
by  its  kindling  influence  upon  it. 

Accustomed,  from  the  domination  of  a  mental  philos- 
ophy which  rejects  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  to  con- 
sider learning  as  something  carried  into  the  mind  instead 
of  something  drawn  out  of  it,  it  sounds  strangely  to 
speak  of  originating'  knowledge.  But  who  are  the  really 
learned  statesmen,  philosophers,  and  divines  ?  Not  those 
who  merely  commit  to  memory  the  results  of  past  inquiry, 
but  those  in  whom  after  deep  reflection  the  principles  of 
government,  philosophy,  and  religion,  rise  into  sight,  with 
the  freshness,  inspiration,  and  splendor,  of  a  new  dis- 
covery. In  asserting  however  that  learning  is  the 
product  of  the  mind  itself,  I  mean  that  it  is  relatively  so. 

*  This  is  Plato's  meaning  when  he  asserts  that  learning  is  recollection  : — 
the  reminding  of  the  human  spirit  of  those  great  principles  which  are  bom 
with  it,  and  which  constitute  its  rationality.  —  Phasdon  Opera  I.  p.  125, 
et  seq.    Cudworth's  Im.  Mor.  Book  iii,  Chap.  3. 

3 


26  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

It  is  not  asserted  that  every  truly  learned  mind  discovers 
absolutely  new  principles,  and  consequently  that  the 
future  is  to  bring  to  light  a  great  amount  of  knowledge 
unknown  to  the  past.  Far  from  it.  The  sum  of  human 
knowledge,  with  the  exception  of  that  part  relating  to 
the  domain  of  natural  science,  is  undoubtedly  complete, 
and  we  are  not  to  expect  the  discovery  of  any  new  fun- 
damental principles  in  the  sphere  of  the  supernatural.  — 
But  it  is  asserted  with  confidence  that  these  old  principles 
must  be  discovered  afresh  for  himself  by  every  one  who 
would  be  truly  educated.  "  He  who  has  been  born," 
says  an  eloquent  writer,  "  has  been  a  first  man,  and  has 
had  the  world  lying  around  him  as  fresh  and  fair  as  it 
lay  before  the  eyes  of  Adam  himself."  In  like  manner, 
he  who  has  been  created  a  rational  spirit,  has  a  world  of 
rational  principles  encircling  him,  which  is  as  new  and 
undiscovered  for  him  as  it  was  for  the  first  man.  In  the 
hemisphere  of  his  own  self-reflection  and  self-conscious- 
ness, the  sun  must  rise  for  the  first  time,  and  the  stars 
must  send  down  their  very  freshest  influences,  their  very 
first  and  purest  gleam. 

For  education,  in  the  eminent  sense  of  the  term,  is 
djmamic  and  not  atomic.  It  does  not  lie  in  the  mind 
in  the  form  of  congregated  atoms,  but  of  living,  salient, 
energies.  It  is  not  therefore  poured  in  from  without,  but 
t-prings  up  from  within.  The  power  of  pure  thought  is 
t'dacation.  Indeed  the  more  we  consider  the  nature  of 
Dicutal  education,  the  more  clearly  do  we  see  that  it  con- 
sists in  the  power  of  pure,  practical  reflection ;  the  ability 
so  to  absorb  the  mind  that  it  shall  sink  down  into  itself, 
until  it  reaches  those  ultimate  principles,  bedded  in  its 
essence,  by  which  facts  and  all  acquired  and  remembered 
information  are  illuminated  and  vivified.  It  cannot  be 
that  he  who  remembers  the  most,  is  the  most  thoroughly 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  27 

educated  man,  or  that  the  age  which  is  in  possession  of 
the  greatest  amount  of  books  and  recorded  information, 
is  the  most  learned.  No  I  learning  is  the  product  of  a 
powerful  mind,  which,  by  self-reflection  and  absorption 
in  pure,  practical  thought,  goes  down  into  those  depths 
of  the  intellectual  world,  where,  as  in  the  world  of  matter, 
the  gems  and  gold,  the  seeds,  and  germs,  and  roots,  are 
to  be  found.  It  is  related  that  Socrates  could  remain  a 
whole  day  utterly  lost  in  profound  reflection.*  This  was 
the  education  in  that  age  of  no  books,  to  which,  through 
his  scholar  Plato,  himself  educated  in  the  same  way,  is 
owing  a  system  of  philosophy,  substantial  with  the  very 
essence  of  learning;  a  system  which  for  insight  into 
ultimate  principles  is  at  the  head  of  all  human  knowledge. 
Such  being  the  nature  of  education,  it  is  evident  that 
theological  studies  are  better  fitted  than  any  others,  to 
educe  a  rational  mind.  For  they  bring  it  into  imme- 
diate communication  with  those  supernatm-al  realities 
and  truths  which  are  appropriate  to  it,  and  which  possess 
a  strong  power  of  development.  There  is  in  the  human 
mind  a  vast  amount  of  latent  energy  forming  the  basis 
for  an  endless  progress,  and  this  will  lie  latent  and  dor- 
mant unless  the  forces  of  the  supernatural  world  evolve 
it.  The  world  of  nature  unfolds  merely  the  superficies 
of  man,  leaving  the  hidden  depths  of  his  being  unstirred, 
and  only  when  the  windows  of  heaven  are  opened  are 
the  fountains  of  this  great  deep  broken  up.  For  proof 
of  this  assertion,  consider  the  influence  which  the  theolo- 
gical doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality  exerts  upon  the 
spirit.  When  man  realizes  that  he  is  immortal  he  is 
supernaturally  roused.  Depths  are  revealed  in  his  being 
which  he  did  not  dream  of,  down  into  which  he  looks 
with  solemn  awe,  and  energies  which  had  hitherto  slum- 

*  Convivium.  Platonis  Opera  vii.  p.  278. 


28  THE    METHOD,-  AND    INFLUENCE, 

bered  from  his  creation  are  now  set  into  a  play  at  which 
he  stands  aghast.  Never  do  the  tides  of  that  shoreless 
ocean,  the  human  soul,  heave  and  swell  as  they  do  when 
it  feels  what  the  scripture  calls  "  the  power  of  an  endless 
life."  The  same  remark  holds  true  of  all  properly  theo- 
logical doctrines.  An  unequalled  developing  influence 
rains  down  from  this  great  constellation. 

And  the  intellect  as  well  as  the  heart  of  man  feels  the 
influence.  Hence  that  period  in  a  man's  life  which  is 
marked  by  a  realizing  and  practical  apprehension  of  the 
doctrines  of  spiritual  religion  is  also  marked  by  a  great 
increase  of  intellectual  power.  A  manlier  and  more  sub- 
stantial cultivation  begins,  because  the  being  has  become 
conscious  of  his  high  origin  and  the  awfulness  of  his 
destiny,  and  a  stronger  play  of  intellectual  power  is 
evoked,  because  the  stream  of  supernatural  influence  flows 
through  the  whole  man,  and  both  head  and  heart  feel  its 
vivification.  The  value  of  theological  studies,  in  an 
intellectual  point  of  view,  does  not  consist  so  much  in 
the  amount  of  information  as  in  the  amount  of  energy 
imparted  by  them.  The  doctrines  of  theology,  like  the 
solar  centres,  are  comparatively  few  in  number,  and  while 
the  demand  they  make  upon  the  memory  is  small,  the 
demand  they  make  upon  the  power  of  reflection  is 
infinite  and  unending.  For  this  reason,  theological 
studies  are  in  the  highest  degree  fitted  to  originate  and 
carry  on  a  true  education.  There  is  an  invigorating  vir- 
tue in  them  which  strengthens  while  it  unfolds  the 
mental  powers,  and  therefore  the  more  absorbing  the 
intensity  with  which  the  mind  dwells  upon  them,  the 
more  it  is  endued  with  power. 

This  truth  is  very  plainly  written  in  literary  history. 
If  we  would  see  that  period  when  the  mind  of  a  nation 
was  most  fuU  of  original  power,  we  must  contemplate 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  29 

its  theological  age.  We  ever  find  that  the  national  intel- 
lect is  most  energetically  educed  in  that  period  when  the 
attention  of  educated  men  is  directed  with  great  earnest- 
ness to  theological  studies,  while  that  period  which  is 
characterized  by  a  false  study,  or  a  general  neglect,  of 
them,  is  one  of  very  shallow  education.  Compare  the 
education  of  the  English  mind  during  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,  with  its  education  in  the  eigh- 
teenth. The  great  difference  between  the  two,  is  owing 
to  the  serious  and  profound  reflection  upon  strictly  theo- 
logical subjects  that  prevailed  in  the  fu*st  period,  and  to 
the  absence  of  such  reflection  in  the  second.  The  former 
was  a  theological  age  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term ;  a 
period  when  the  educated  class  felt  very  powerfully  the 
vigor  proceeding  from  purely  supernatural  themes.  The 
latter  was  a  period  when,  through  the  influence  of  a  sys- 
tem of  philosophy  which  teacheg  that  every  thing  must 
be  learned  through  the  five  senses,  a  mere  naturalism 
took  the  place  of  supernaturalism,  and  when,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  the  mind  of  the  literary  class  was  not  the  sub- 
ject of  those  developing  and  energizing  influences  which 
proceed  only  from  supernatural  truths. 

Again,  that  we  may  still  more  clearly  see  the  vigorous 
character  imparted  to  education  by  purely  theological 
studies,  let  us  consider  two  individuals  who  stand  at  the 
head  of  two  different  classes  of  literary  men,  and  afford 
two  different  specimens  of  intellectual  culture  :  —  Lord 
Chancellor  Bacon  and  Lord  Chancellor  Brougham. 

The  education  of  Bacon  is  the  result,  in  no  smaU 
degree,  of  the  influence  of  the  truths  of  supernatural 
science.  There  was  no  naturalism  in  the  age  of  Bacon ; 
there  was  none  in  his  culture ;  and  there  is  none  in  his 
writings.  He  lived  at  a  period  when  the  English  mind 
was  stirred  very  deeply  by  religious  doctrines,  and  when 

3* 


30  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

the  truths  of  the  supernatural  world  were  very  absorbing 
topics  of  thought  and  discussion,  not  only  for  divines, 
but  for  statesmen.  We  of  this  enlightened  nineteenth 
century,  are  in  the  habit  of  calling  those  centuries  of 
reformation,  dark,  in  comparison  with  our  own ;  but  with 
all  the  darkness  on  some  subjects,  it  may  be  fearlessly 
asserted  that  since  the  first  two  centuries  of  the  history 
of  Christianity,  there  has  never  been  a  period  when  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  race  have  been  so  deeply  and  anx- 
iously interested  in  the  truths  pertaining  to  another 
world,  as  in  those  two  centuries  of  reformation;  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth.  With  all  the  lack  of  modern 
improvements  and  civilization,  there  was  everywhere  a 
firm  belief  in  the  supernatural,  and  a  sacred  reverence  for 
religion.  Even  the  very  keenness  and  acrimony  of  the 
theological  disputations  of  that  period  prove  that  men 
believed,  as  they  do  not  in  an  indifferent  age,  that  reli- 
gious doctrines  are  matters  of  vital  interest. 

Bacon  lived  in  this  age ;  in  its  first  years,  and  felt  the 
first  and  freshest  influences  of  the  great  awakening.  His 
intellect  felt  them,  and  hence  its  masculine  development 
and  vigor.  The  products  of  his  intellect  felt  them,  and 
hence  the  solid  substance,  strong  sinew,  and  warm  blood, 
of  which  they  are  made. 

The  education  of  Brougham  has  been  obtained  in  a 
very  different  age  from  that  of  Bacon :  an  age  when  the 
faith  and  interest  which  the  learned  class  once  felt  in  the 
realities  of  another  world,  have  transferred  themselves 
to  the  realities  of  this.  It  has  also  been  the  result,  in 
no  small  degree,  of  the  belief  and  the  study  of  the 
half-truths  of  natural  theology.  While  then  the  recorded 
learning  of  Bacon  bears  the  stamp  of  originality,  is 
drenched  and  saturated  with  the  choicest  intellectual 
spirit  and  energy,  makes  an  epoch  in  literary  history,  and 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  ill 

sends  forth  through  all  time  an  enlivening  power,  the 
recorded  learning  of  Brougham  is  destitute  of  fresh  life, 
being  the  result  of  a  diligent  acquisition,  and  not  of  pro- 
found contemplation,  gives  off  little  invigorating  influence, 
and  cannot  form  a  marked  period  in  the  history  of  lite- 
rature. 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  the  developing  and  ener- 
gizing influence  of  theological  studies  ;  but  if  we  should 
stop  here,  we  should  be  very  far  from  discovering  their 
full  worth.  There  is  a  merely  speculative  development 
and  energy  of  the  mind  which  is  heaven-wide  from  genu- 
ine education,  and  really  prevents  growth  in  true  knowl- 
edge. 

There  have  ever  been,  and,  so  long  as  man  shall 
continue  to  be  a  fallen  spirit,  there  ever  will  be,  two 
kinds  of  thought.  The  one  speculative  and  hollow ;  the 
other  practical  and  substantial.  The  one  wasting  itself 
upon  the  factitious  products  of  its  own  energy ;  the  other 
expending  itself  upon  those  great  realities  which  are 
veritable,  and  have  an  existence  independent  of  the  finite 
mind.  The  natural  tendency  of  the  intellect,  icheti  not 
actuated  by  a  rational  and  holy  will,  is  to  produce  purely 
speculative  thought,  and  in  this  direction  do  we  see  all 
intellect  going  which  does  not  feel  the  influence  of  moral 
and  spiritual  truth.  The  speculative  reason  is  a  wonder- 
ful mechanism,  and  if  kept  within  its  proper  domain,  and 
applied  to  its  correlative  objects,  is  an  important  instru- 
ment in  the  attainment  of  truth  and  culture,  but  if 
suffered  to  pass  over  its  appointed  limits,  and  to  occupy 
itself  with  the  investigation  of  subjects  to  which  it  is  not 
adapted,  it  brings  in  error  rapidly  and  ad  infinitum,  pre- 
venting the  true  progress  and  repose  of  the  spirit.  There 
is  no  end  to  the  manufactures  of  the  speculative  faculty, 
or  to  the  productive  energy  of  its  life,  when  once  the  pro- 


32  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

cess  of  speculation  is.  begun.  Nay,  it  is  the  express 
doctrine  of  Fichte  (the  most  intensely  and  purely  specu- 
lative intellect  the  world  has  yet  seen)  that  the  finite 
mind  having  the  principle  of  its  own  movement  within 
itself,  by  working  in  accordance  with  its  own  indwelling 
laws,  is  able  to  create^  and  actually  does  create  the  great 
universe  itself!  The  history  of  philosophy  discloses 
much  of  such  speculative  thought,  and  hence  the  dissat- 
isfaction of  philosophy  with  what  it  has  hitherto  done, 
and  its  striving  after  a  substantial  and  genuine  knowl- 
edge. Man  as  a  moral  being  cannot  be  content  with 
these  hollow  speculations',  for  spirit  as  well  as  natm-e 
abhors  a  vacuum.  Thought  must  be  filled  up  with  sub- 
stantial verity,  and  knowledge  must  become  practical, 
in  order  to  the  repose  and  true  education  of  the  mind. 

Yet  notwithstanding  the  unsatisfying  nature  of  specu- 
lative thinking,  an  intellectual  fife  and  enthusiasm  are 
generated  by  it  which  invest  it  with  a  charming  facina- 
tion  for  the  mind  that  is  led  on  by  a  merely  speculative 
interest.  What  though  the  thinker  is  bewildered  and 
lost  in  the  mazes  of  speculation ;  he  is  bewildered  and 
lost  in  wonderful  regions,  the  astounding  nature  of 
whose  objects  represses,  for  a  time,  the  feelings  of  doubt 
and  dissatisfaction.  He  is  like  the  pilgiim  lost  in  "  the 
gorgeous  East,"  who  is  delightedly  lost  amid  the  luxuri- 
ant entanglements  and  wild  enchantments  of  the  oriental 
jungle.  In  this  exciting  world  of  speculation,  the  ener- 
gies of  the  intellect  are  in  full  action,  the  thirst  and 
curiosity  for  knowledge  are  keen,  and  under  the  impulse 
of  these  the  thinker  says  with  Jacobi ;  "  though  I  know 
the  insuflaciency  of  my  philosophizing,  still  I  can  only 
philosophize  right  on."  * 

*  Jacobi,  quoted  by  Tholuck.    Vermischte  Schriften.  ii.  427 ;  and  see  a 
similar  remark  by  Kant,  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft.  p.  196.    The  philoso- 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  33 

It  is  possible  to  evoke  intellectual  energy  so  powerfully 
and  habitually  that  the  action  shall  become  organic,  and 
the  intellect  shall  be  instinctively  busy  with  the  produc- 
tion and  reproduction  of  speculations ;  and  though  the 
thinker  gets  no  repose  of  soul  by  it,  yet  he  is  so  much 
under  the  power  of  the  intellectual  appetite  that  he  will 
not  cease  to  gratify  it.  There  is  no  more  mournful  chap- 
ter in  the  history  of  literary  men  than  that  which  records 
their  unending  speculative  struggles  ;  their  efforts  to  find 
peace  of  mind  and  true  education  in  the  application  of 
merely  speculative  energy  to  the  solution  of  the  great 
problems  of  moral  existence.  The  process  of  speculation 
continually  becomes  more  and  more  impeded,  as  at  every 
advance  still  more  mysterious  problems  come  into  sight, 
not  soluble  by  this  method ;  the  over-tasked  intellect  at 
length  gives  out,  and  its  gifted  possessor  falls  into  the 
abyss  of  unbelief  like  an  archangel. 

It  is  not  enough  therefore  that  the  latent  power  of  the 
mind  is  developed  merely  ;  it  must  be  developed  by  some 
substantial  objects,  and  it  must  be  expended  upon  some 
veritable  realities.  In  other  words,  the  thought  of  man 
must  be  called  forth  by  the  ideas  and  principles  of  the 
supernatural  world,  and  the  mind  of  man  must  find 
repose  and  education  in  moral  truth. 


pher,  (says  Chalybaus  in  the  conclusion  of  his  lecture  upon  Jacobi,  Vorles- 
ungen  p.  77.)  as  well  as  the  poet,  can  say  of  himself: — 

Ich  halte  diesen  Drang  vergebens  auf, 

Der  Tag  und  Nacht  in  meinem  Busen  wechselt, 

Wenn  ich  nicht  sinnen  oder  dichten  soli, 

So  ist  das  Leben  mir  kein  Leben  mehr ! 

Verbiete  du  dem  Seidenwurm,  zu  spinnen  — 

Wenn  er  sich  schon  dem  Tode  naher  spinnt, 

Das  kostlichste  Geweb'  entwickelt  er 

Aus  seinera  Innersten,  und  laszt  nicht  ab 

Bis  er  in  seinen  Sarg  sich  eingeschlossen. 


34  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

The  reader  of  Plato  is  struck  with  the  earnestness  with 
which  this  truly  philosophic  and  educated  mind  insists 
upon  knowing  that  which  really  is,  as  the  end  of  philoso- 
phy. It  matters  not  how  consecutive  and  consistent 
with  itself  a  system  of  thought  may  be,  if  it  has  no  cor- 
respondent in  the  world  of  being,  and  does  not  find  a 
confirmation  in  the  world  of  absolute  reality.  The  form 
may  be  distinct,  and  the  proportions  symmetrical,  but 
the  thing  is  spectral  and  unsubstantial,  and  though  it  be 
dignified  with  the  name  of  philosophy,  it  is  nevertheless 
a  pure  figment.  Though  not  the  product  of  the  fancy 
but  of  a  far  higher  faculty,  a  merely  speculative  philo- 
sophical system  is  but  a  product ;  a  creation  of  the  brain, 
to  which  there  is,  objectively,  nothing  correspondent.  As 
an  instance  of  such  philosophizing,  take  the  system  of 
Spinoza.  No  one  can  deny  that  as  a  merely  speculative 
unity,  it  is  perfect,  and  perfectly  satisfies  the  wants  of 
that  part  of  the  human  understanding  which  looks  for 
nothing  but  a  theoretical  whole.  All  its  parts  are  in 
most  perfect  harmony  with  each  other,  and  with  the 
whole.  This  system  is  conceived  and  executed  in  a 
most  systematic  spirit,  and  if  man  had  no  moral  reason 
which  seeks  for  something  more  than  a  merely  specula- 
tive unity,  it  would  be  for  him  the  true  theory  of  the 
universe.  But  why  is  it  not,  and  why  cannot  the  hu- 
man mind  be  content  with  it  ?  Because  a  rational  spirit 
cannot  rest  in  it.  There  is  in  this  system,  great  and 
architectural  as  it  is,  no  repose  or  home  for  a  moral 
being,  and  therefore  it  is  not  truth ;  for  absolute  truth  is 
infalfibly  known  by  the  absolute  and  everlasting  satisfac- 
tion it  affords  to  the  moral  spirit. 

Another  great  aim  of  education,  therefore,  is  the  calm 
repose  of  mind ;  its  settlement  in  indisputable  truth. 
This  can  proceed  only  from  the  study  of  the  purely  spir- 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  35 

itual  truths  of  theology,  because  such  is  their  nature  that 
there  can  be  no  real  dispute  regarding  them,  whereas 
merely  speculative  dogmas  are  susceptible  of,  and  awak- 
en, an  endless  ratiocination.  There  has  always  been,  for 
example,  even  among  thoughtful  men  a  keen  dispute  re- 
garding some  points  in  the  mode  of  the  Divine  existence, 
but  none  at  all  regarding  the  Divine  character.  The 
doctrine  of  the  subsistence  of  creation  in  the  creator  has 
ever  awakened  honest  disputations  among  sincere  dis- 
putants, but  the  doctrine  that  God  is  holy  has  never 
been  doubted  by  a  conscientious  thinker.  This  holds 
true  of  all  speculative  and  practical  doctrines.  Within 
the  sphere  of  theory  and  speculation  there  is  room  for 
endless  wanderings,  and  no  foundation  upon  which  the 
spirit  can  stand  still  and  firm.  Within  the  sphere  of 
practice  and  morality  there  need  be  no  doubt  nor  error, 
and  the  sincere  mind,  by  a  direct  vision  of  the  truths  of 
this  practical  domain  of  knowledge,  may  enter  at  once 
and  forever  into  rest. 

The  influence  of  pm'ely  theological  studies,  in  produc- 
ing an  education  that  ministers  repose  and  harmony  to 
the  mind,  is  great  and  valuable.  The  intellectual  energy 
is  not  awakened  by  abstractions,  nor  is  it  expended  upon 
them,  but  upon  those  supernatural  realities  which  are  the 
appropriate  objects  of  a  rational  contemplation,  and  which 
completely  satisfy  the  wants  of  an  immortal  being.  For 
that  which  imparts  substantiality  to  thought,  is  religion, 
and  all  reflection  which  does  not  in  the  end  refer  to  the 
moral  and  supernatural  relations  of  man,  is  worthless. 
Though  a  fallen  spirit,  man  still  bears  about  with  him  the 
great  idea  of  his  origin  and  destiny.  This  allows  him 
no  real  peace  or  satisfaction  but  in  religious  truth,  and 
there  are  moments,  consequently,  in  the  life  of  the  edu- 
cated man,  when  he  feels  with  deep  despondency  the 


36  THE    METHOD,   AND    INFLUENCE, 

need  of  the  purer  culture,  and  the  more  satisfactory  re- 
flection, of  better  studies.  If  any,  short  of  strictly  theo- 
logical studies,  can  give  repose  of  mind,  they  would  have 
given  it  to  the  poet  Goethe.  Yet  that  mind,  singu- 
larly symmetrical  and  singularly  calm  by  nature,  af- 
ter ranging  for  half  a  century  through  all  regions  save 
that  strictly  supernatural  world  of  which  we  have  spok- 
en, and  after  obtaining  what  of  culture  and  intellectual 
satisfaction  is  to  be  found  short  of  spiritual  truths ;  that 
mind,  so  richly  and  variously  gifted,  at  the  close  of  its 
existence  on  earth  confessed  that  it  had  never  experi- 
enced a  moment  of  genuine  repose. 

The  German  poet  is  not  the  only  one  whose  educa- 
tion did  not  contribute  to  repose  and  peace  of  mind. 
The  literary  life  has  not  hitherto  been  calm  and  satisfied. 
From  all  times,  and  from  all  classes  of  educated  minds, 
there  comes  the  mournful  confession  that  "  he  that  in- 
creaseth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow,"  and  that  all 
learning  which  does  not  go  beyond  the  consciousness  of 
the  natural  man  and  have  for  its  object  the  Good,  the 
True,  and  the  Divine,  cannot  satisfy  the  demands  of 
man's  ideal  state.  From  Philosophy,  from  Poetry,  and 
from  Art,  is  heard  the  acknowledgment  that  there  is  no 
repose  for  the  rational  spirit  but  in  moral  truth.  The 
testimony  that  the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travail- 
eth  in  pain,  together,  is  as  loud  and  convincing  from  the 
domain  of  letters,  as  it  is  from  the  cursed  and  thistle- 
bearing  ground.  From  the  immortal  longing  and  dis- 
satisfaction of  Plato,  down  to  the  wild  and  passionate 
restlessness  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  the  evidence  is  deci- 
sive that  a  spiritual  and  religious  element  must  enter 
into  the  education  of  man  in  order  to  inward  harmony 
and  rest. 

Time  forbids  a  longer  discussion  of  this  part  of  the 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  37 

subject.  It  may  be  said  as  a  result  of  the  whole,  that  a 
thorough  study  of  theology  as  the  science  of  the  super- 
natural, results  in  a  profundity  and  harmony  of  educa- 
tion which  can  be  obtained  in  no  other  way,  and  if  the 
culture  which  comes  from  poetry  and  fine  literature  gen- 
erally be  also  mingled  with  it,  a  truly  beautiful  as  well 
as  profound  education  will  be  the  result  of  the  alchemy. 

I  turn  now  to  consider  the  influence  of  theological 
studies  upon  Literature.  And  let  me  again  remind  you 
that  I  am  speaking  of  purely  theological  studies,  as  they 
have  been  defined.  There  is  an  influence  proceeding 
from  so-called  theological  studies,  which  deprives  litera- 
ture of  its  depth,  power,  beauty,  and  glory ;  the  quasi 
religious  influence  of  naturalism,  of  which  the  poetry  of 
Pope,  the  philosophy  of  Locke,  the  divinity  of  Priestley, 
and  the  morality  of  Paley,  are  the  legitimate  and  neces- 
sary results. 

The  fact  strikes  us  in  the  outset,  that  the  noblest  and 
loftiest  literature  has  always  appeared  in  those  periods 
of  a  nation's  existence,  when  its  literary  men  were  most 
under  the  influence  of  theological  science.  Whether  we 
look  at  Pagan  or  Christian  literature,  we  find  this  asser- 
tion verified.  The  mythology  and  theology  of  Greece 
exerted  their  greatest  influence  upon  Homer,  the  three 
dramatists,  and  Plato  ;  and  these  are  the  great  names  in 
Grecian  literature.  If  Cicero  is  over  vigorous  and  origi- 
nal he  is  in  his  ethical  and  theological  writings.  The 
beautiful  flower  of  Italian  literature  is  the  "  unfathom- 
able song "  of  the  religious  Dante.  The  beauty  and 
strength  of  English  literature  are  the  fruit  of  those  two 
pre-eminently  theological  centuries :  —  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth.  The  originality  and  life  which  for  the  last 
century  has  given  German  literature  the  superiority  over 
other  literatures  of  this  period,  must  be  referred  mainly  to 

4 


38  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

the  tendency  of  the  German  mind  toward  theological  truth. 
And  judging  a  priori^  we  should  conclude  that  such  would 
be  the  fact.  We  might  safely  expect  that  the  human 
mind  would  produce  its  most  perfect  results,  when  most 
under  the  influences  that  come  from  its  birth-place.  We 
might  know  beforehand,  that  truth  and  beauty  would 
flow  most  freely  into  the  creations  of  man's  mind,  when 
he  himself  is  in  most  intimate  communication  with  that 
world  where  these  qualities  have  their  eternal  fountain. 

1.  The  first  and  best  fruit  of  the  influence  of  the- 
ology upon  literature  is  profundity.  This  characteristic 
of  the  best  literature  of  a  nation  is  immediately  noticed 
by  the  scholar,  so  that  its  decrease  or  absence  is,  for  him, 
the  chief  sign  of  deterioration.  In  that  glorious  age  of  a 
nation  when  the  solemn  spirit  of  religion  informs  every- 
thing ;  when,  compared  with  after  ages,  the  nation  seems 
to  be  very  near  the  supernatural  world  in  feeling  and 
sentiment ;  when  prophet,  poet,  and  priest,  are  syno- 
nymes ;  then  arises  its  most  profound  literature. 

By  a  profound  literature,  is  meant  one  that  addresses 
itself  to  the  most  profound  faculties  of  the  human  soul. 
The  so-called  polite  literature,  is  the  lightest  and  most 
unessential  product  of  the  human  mind.  It  is  the  work 
of  the  inferior  part  of  the  understanding,  deriving  little 
life  or  vigor  from  its  deepest  powers,  and  having  no  im- 
mediate connection  with  its  highest  cultivation.  It 
occupies  the  attention  of  man  in  his  youthful  days, 
affording  an  ample  field  in  which  the  fancy  may  rove 
and  revel,  and  starting  some  of  the  superficial  life  of  the 
intellect ;  but  in  the  mature  and  meditative  part  of  his 
existence,  when  the  great  questions  relating  to  his  origin 
and  destiny  are  raised,  he  leaves  these  gay  and  pleasant 
studies  for  that  more  profound  literature  which  comes 
home  to  deeper  faculties  and  wants. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  39 

A  survey  of  literature  generally,  at  once  shows  that 
but  a  very  small  portion  of  it  is  worthy  to  be  called  pro- 
found. How  very  little  of  the  vast  amount  which  has 
been  composed  by  the  literary  class,  addresses  itself  to 
the  primitive  faculties  of  the  human  ^oul !  The  greater 
part  merely  stimulates  curiosity,  exercises  the  fancy,  and 
perhaps  loads  the  memory.  Another  portion  externally 
polishes  and  adorns  the  mind.  It  is  only  a  very  small 
portion,  which  by  speaking  to  the  Reason  and  the  ra- 
tional and  creative  Imagination,  and  rousing  into  full 
play  of  life  those  profound  powers,  ministers  strength, 
true  beauty,  and  true  culture  to  the  soul. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  character  of  the  English 
literature  of  the  present  day.  I  do  not  now  refer  to  the 
dregs  and  ofF-scom'ings  w4iich  are  doing  so  much  to  de- 
bauch the  English  mind,  but  to  the  bloom  and  flower. 
And  I  ask  if  it  does  an3rthing  more  for  the  scholar  than  to 
externally  adorn  and  embellish  his  education  ?  Has  it 
the  power  to  educate  ?  Does  it  have  a  strong  tendency 
to  develop  a  historical,  a  philosophical,  a  poetical,  or  ar- 
tistic capability  if  it  lie  in  the  student  ?  Must  not  a 
more  profound  literature  be  called  upon  to  do  this,  and 
must  not  the  scholar  who  would  truly  develop  what  is  in 
him,  go  back  to  the  study  of  Homer  and  Plato  ;  of 
Dante  ;  of  Shakspeare,  Bacon,  and  IVIilton  ?  If  he  con- 
tents himself  with  the  study  of  the  best  current  litera- 
ture, will  he  do  anything  more  than  produce  a  refine- 
ment destitute  of  life  ;  a  culture  without  vigor  ;  and  will 
he  himself  in  his  best  estate  be  anything  more  than  an 
intellectual  voluptuary,  utterly  impotent  and  without 
vivifying  influence  upon  letters  ? 

There  is  then  a  profound  portion  of  literature  speaking 
to  the  deeper .  part  of  man,  from  which  he  is  to  derive  a 
profound  literary  cultivation.     A  brief  examination  will 


40  THE    METHOD,   AND    INFLUENCE, 

show  that  its  chief  characteristics  arise  from  its  being 
impregnated  by  theology  ;  not  necessarily  by  the  formal 
doctrines  of  theology,  but  by  its  finer  essence  and  spirit. 
Theology,  it  has  been  said,  is  the  science  of  the  supernat- 
ural and  therefore  of  the  strictly  mysterious.  The  idea  of 
God,  which  constitutes  and  animates  the  science,  is  a 
true  mystery.  But  that  which  is  truly  mysterious  is 
truly  profound,  and  deepens  everything  coming  under  its 
influence.  Indeed  mystery,  in  the  philosophical  sense  of 
the  term,  is  the  author  of  all  great  qualities.  Sublim- 
ity, Profundity,  Grandeur,  Magnificence,  Beauty,  can- 
not exist  without  it.  Like  night,  it  induces  a  high  and 
solemn  mood,  and  is  the  parent  and  nurse  of  profound 
and  noble  thought.  That  literature  which  is  pervaded 
by  it,  becomes  deep-toned,  and  speaks  with  emphasis  to 
the  deeper  powers  of  man.  Even  when  there  is  but  an 
imperfect  permeation  by  this  influence ;  when  mystery 
is  not  fully  apprehended,  and  the  mind  is  not  completely 
under  its  power  ;  even  when  the  Poet  feels 

"  What  he  can  ne'er  express,  yet  cannot  all  conceal," 

there  is  a  noble  inspiration  in  his  lines,  which,  with  all 
its  vagueness,  deepens  the  feelings  and  elevates  the  con- 
ceptions. It  is  related  of  Fichte,  that  in  very  early  child- 
hood he  would  stand  motionless  for  hours,  gazing  into 
the  distant  ether.*  As  such  he  is  a  symbol  of  the  soul 
which  is  but  imperfectly  possessed  by  that  mystery  which 
surrounds  every  rational  being.  Those  vague  yearn- 
ings and  obscure  stirrings  of  the  boy's  spirit,  as  with 
strained  eye  he  strove  to  penetrate  the  dark  depths 
of  infinite  space,  typify  the  workings  of  that  soul  which 
in  only  an  imperfect  degree  partakes  of  this  "  vision  and 

*  Fichte's  Leben.I.  7. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  41 

faculty  divine."  And  as  those  motions  in  this  youthful 
spirit  awaken  interest  in  the  observer,  betokening  as 
they  do  no  common  mood  arid  tendency,  so  even  the 
vague  and  shadowy  musings  of  the  mind  which  is  but 
feebly  under  the  influence  of  mystery :  —  a  Novalis,  or  a 
Shelley, —  are  not  without  their  interest  and  elevation. 

But  when  a  genius  appears  in  the  history  of  a  nation's 
literature,  who  sees  the  great  import  and  feels  the  full 
power  of  those  true  mysteries  which  are  the  subject  mat- 
ter of  theological  science,  then  creations  appear  which 
exert  an  inspiring  influence  upon  all  after  ages,  and  by 
their  profundity  and  power  betoken  that  they  are  com- 
posed of  no  volatile  essence,  and  produced  by  no  super- 
ficial mental  energy.  They  are  not  to  be  comprehended 
or  admired  at  a  glance,  it  is  true,  and  therefore  are  not 
the  favorites  of  the  falsely  educated  class,  but  ever 
remain  the  peculiar  property  and  delight  of  that  inner 
circle  of  literary  men  in  whom  culture  reaches  its  height 
of  excellence. 

It  may  appear  strange  to  attribute  the  noblest  charac- 
teristics of  literature  to  the  mysteries  of  theology,  but  a 
philosophical  study  of  literature  convincingly  shows  that 
from  this  dark  unsightly  root  grows  "the  bright  con- 
summate flower."  It  is  the  spirit  of  this  solemn  and 
dark  domain,  which,  by  connecting  literature  with  the 
moral  and  mysterious  world,  and  by  giving  it  a  direct 
or  indirect  reference  to  the  deepest  and  most  serious 
relations  of  the  human  spirit,  renders  it  profound,  and 
raises  it  infinitely  above  the  mass  of  common  fight  liter- 
ature. 

2.  This  same  influence  of  theology  imparts  that  earn- 
est and  lofty  purpose  which  resides  in  the  best  literature. 
The  chief  reason  why  the  largest  portion  of  the  produc- 
tions of  the  Uterary  class  contributes  nothing  to  true  cul- 

4* 


42  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

tivation,  and  is  destitute  of  the  highest  excellence,  is 
the  fact  that  it  is  not  animated  by  a  purpose.  The 
poet  composes  a  poem  with  no  specific  and  lofty  inten- 
tion in  his  eye,  but  merely  to  give  vent  to  a  series  of  per- 
sonal states  and  feelings.  He  writes  for  his  own  relief 
and  gratification,  not  reaUzing,  as  Milton  did,  that  "  po- 
etic abilities,  wheresoever  they  be  found,  are  the  inspired 
gift  of  God,  rarely  bestowed ;  and  are  of  power  beside  the 
office  of  a  pulpit^  to  imbreed  and  cherish  in  a  great  peo- 
ple the  seeds  of  virtue  and  public  civility,"  and  should 
be  used  for  this  noble  purpose.  The  literary  man  gen- 
erally, does  not  even  dream  that  he  is  obligated  to  work 
with  a  good  and  elevated  object  in  his  eye,  but  is 
exempt  from  the  universal  law  of  creation,  which  obli- 
gates every  finite  spirit  to  live  and  labor  for  truth  and 
God. 

But  sin  always  takes  vengeance,  and  all  literature 
which  is  purposeless,  and  does  not  breathe  an  earnest 
spirit,  is  destitute  of  the  highest  excellence.  It  will  want 
the  solemnity,  the  enthusiasm,  the  glow,  the  grandeur, 
and  the  depth,  which  proceeds  only  from  a  lofty  and 
serious  intention  in  the  mind  of  the  author.  And  this 
purpose  can  dwell  only  in  the  mind  which  is  haunted  by 
the  higher  ideas  and  truths  of  supernatm-alism.  It  is  in 
vain  for  the  literary  man  to  seek  his  inspiration  in  the 
earthly,  or  the  intellectual,  world.  He  must  derive  it 
from  the  heaven  of  heavens. 

Both  in  heathen  and  in  Christian  literature,  we  find 
the  noblest  productions  to  be  but  the  embodiment  of  a 
purpose  ;  and  the  purpose  is  always  intimately  connect- 
ed with  the  moral  world.  The  Iliad  proposes  to  exhibit 
the  battle  of  heaven  and  earth,  of  gods  and  men,  united 
in  defence  of  the  rights  of  injured  hospitality.  This 
proposition  pervades  the  poem,  and  greatly  contributes 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  43 

to  invest  it  with  the  highest  attributes  of  literature.  The 
Grecian  drama  is  serious  and  awful  with  the  spirit  of 
law  and  vengeance.  Its  high  motive^  is  to  teach  all  those 
solemn  and  fearful  truths  regarding  justice  and  injustice 
which  constitute  the  law  written  on  the  heart,  and  are 
the  substance  of  the  universally  accusing  and  condemn- 
ing conscience  of  man.  Pagan  though  the  Greek  drama 
be,  yet  when  we  consider  the  loftiness  and  fixedness  of 
its  intention  to  bring  before  the  mind  all  that  it  can  know 
of  the  supernatural  short  of  revelation,  we  hesitate  not  to 
say  that  it  is  immeasurably  ahead  of  much  of  so-called 
Christian  literature,  in  its  doctrine  and  influence,  as 
well  as  in  its  literary  characteristics.  As  the  scholar  con- 
templates the  elevated  moral  character  running  through 
this  portion  of  Grecian  literatuj-e,  and  contrasts  it  with 
much  of  that  which  is  called  Christian  in  distinction  from 
heathen,  he  is  led  to  take  up  that  indignant  exclamation 
of  Wordsworth  uttered  in  another  connection, 

******    I'd  rather  be 
A  Pagan,  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn. 

Of  all  literary  men  who  have  written  since  the 
promulgation  of  the  Christian  religion,  Milton  seems  to 
have  most  strongly  felt  the  influences  of  theology,  and 
he  more  than  all  others  was  animated  and  strengthened 
by  a  high  moral  aim.  In  his  literary  works  he  distinctly 
and  intentionally  has  in  view  the  advancement  of  truth 
and  the  glory  of  God.  These  were  "  his  matins  duly, 
and  his  even-song."  And  to  this  noble  purpose,  as  much 
as  to  his  magnificent  intellectual  powers,  are  owing  the 
profundity,  loftiness,  grandeur,  truth,  and  beauty,  which, 
in  the  literary  heavens  make  his  works  like  his  soul,  "  a 
star  that  dwells  apart." 

We  live  in  an  age  when  theology  has  become  entirely 


44 


THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 


dissevered  from  literature,  and  when  supernatural  sci- 
ence forms  no  part  of  the  studies  of  the  cultivated 
class.  There  was  a  period  when  literary  men  devoted 
the  best  of  their  time  to  the  high  themes  of  religion,  and 
when  literature  took  a  deep  hue  and  tincture  from  theol- 
ogy. There  was  a  period  when  such  a  man  as  Bacon 
wrote  theological  tracts  and  indited  most  solemn  and 
earnest  prayers ;  when  such  a  man  as  Raleigh  composed 
devotional  hymns ;  when  such  a  man  as  Spenser  sung 
of  the  virtues  and  the  vices ;  when  such  a  man  as  Shaks- 
peare  expended  the  best  of  his  poetic  and  dramatic 
power  in  exhibiting  the  working  of  the  moral  passions  ; 
and  when  such  a  man  as  Milton  made  the  fall  of  the  hu- 
man soul  the  "  great  argument "  of  poetry.  There  was 
a  time  when  literature  was  in  a  very  great  degree  im- 
pregnated by  theology.  But  that  time  has  gone  by,  and 
the  productions  of  later  ages  show,  by  their  ephemeral 
and  inefficient  character,  that  they  have  not  that  truly 
spiritual  element  which  makes  literature  ever  fresh  and 
invigorating.  Whatever  may  be  the  embellishment,  the 
charm,  and  the  fascination,  of  modern  literature,  for  the 
student  in  certain  stages  of  his  growth,  it  does  not  per- 
manently rouse  and  enliven  like  the  old.  It  may  sat- 
isfy the  wants  of  the  educated  man  for  a  time,  but  there 
does  come  a  period  in  the  history  of  every  mind  that  is 
truly  progressive  in  its  character,  when  it  will  not  satisfy, 
and  the  student  must  "  provide  a  manlier  diet."  The 
mind  when  in  the  process  of  true  unfolding  cannot  be 
ultimately  cheated.  Wants,  which  in  the  first  stages  of 
its  development  were  dormant,  while  more  shallow  crav- 
ings were  being  met  by  a  weak  aliment,  eventually  make 
themselves  felt,  and  send  the  subject  of  them  after  more 
substantial  food.  The  favorite  authors  of  the  earlier  pe- 
riods of  education  are  thrown  aside  as  the  taste  becomes 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  45 

more  severe,  the  sympathies  more  refined,  and  profounder 
feelings  are  awakened;  the  circle  diminishes,  until  the 
scholar  finally  rests  content  with  those  few  writers  in 
every  literature,  who  speak  to  the  deeper  spirit,  because 
full  of  the  vigor  and  power  of  the  higher  world. 

The  student  while  in  the  enjoyment  of  it  may  not  dis- 
tinctly know  whence  comes  the  charm  and  abiding  spell 
of  the  older  literature  ;  but  let  him  transfer  himself  into 
periods  of  national  existence  when  faith  in  the  super- 
natural had  become  unbelief,  and  when  literary  men  had 
lost  the  solemn  and  earnest  spirit  of  their  predecessors, 
and  he  will  know  that  religion  is  the  life  of  literature,  as 
it  is  of  all  things  else.  He  will  discover  that  the  absence 
of  an  enlarging  and  elevating  influence  in  letters,  is  to 
be  attributed  to  the  absence  of  that  theological  element 
with  which  the  human  mind,  notwithstanding  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  human  spirit,  has  a  quick  and  deep  affinity. 

I  have  thus,  gentlemen  of  the  societies,  spoken  of  the 
true  method  of  Theological  Studies,  and  of  their  great 
and  noble  influences  upon  education  and  literature.  If 
I  have  spoken  with  more  of  a  theological  tone  than  is 
usually  heard  upon  a  literary  festival  like  the  present 
occasion,  I  might  excuse  myself  by  simply  saying,  in  the 
language  of  Bacon,  that  every  man  is  a  debtor  to  his 
profession.  But  I  confess  to  a  most  sincere  and  earnest 
desire  of  awakening  in  the  minds  of  those  who  are  soon 
to  become  a  part  of  the  educated  class  of  the  land,  an 
interest  and  love  for  that  noblest  and  most  neglected  of 
the  sciences  :  —  theology.  This  science  has  come  to  be 
the  study  of  one  profession  alone,  and  of  one  that 
unhappily  includes  but  a  very  small  portion  of  the  edu- 
cated class.  And  yet  in  the  depth  and  breadth  of  its 
relations,  as  well  as  in  the  importance  of  its  matter,  it  is 
the  science  of  the  sciences.     God  is  the   God  of  every 


46  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

man,  and  the  science  which  treats  of  Him  and  his  ways 
deeply  concerns  every  man,  and  especially  every  one  who 
in  any  degree  is  raised  above  the  common  level,  by  the 
opportunity  and  effort  to  cultivate  himself.  It  is  a  great 
error  to  suppose  that  theological  studies  should  be  the 
exclusive  pursuit  of  the  clergy,  and  that  the  remainder 
of  the  literary  class  in  the  state  should  feel  none  of  the 
enlargement  and  elevation  of  soul  arising  from  them.  — 
When  the  idea  of  a  perfect  commonwealth  shall  be  fully 
realized  —  if  it  ever  shall  be  on  earth  —  theology  will  be 
the  light  and  life  of  all  the  culture  and  knowledge  con- 
tained in  it.  Its  invigorating  and  purifying  energy  will 
be  diffused  through  the  whole  class  of  literary  men,  and 
through  them  will  be  felt  to  the  uttermost  extremities  of 
the  body  politic.  All  other  sciences  will  be  illuminated 
and  vivified  by  it,  and  will  then  reach  that  point  of  per- 
fection which  has  ever  been  in  the  eye  of  their  most 
genial  and  profound  votaries. 

For  a  knowledge  of  the  aims  of  the  most  gifted  and 
enthusiastic  students  of  science,  discovers  the  need  of  the 
influence  of  theology,  in  order  to  the  perfection  of  science, 
as  well  as  of  letters.  That  which  makes  Burke  one  of 
the  few  great  names  in  political  science,  is  the  solemn 
and  awful  view  he  had  of  law  as  strictly  supernatural  in 
its  essence ;  of  law,  in  his  own  language,  as  "  prior  to  all 
our  devices,  and  prior  to  all  our  contrivances,  paramount 
to  all  our  ideas,  and  all  our  sensations,  antecedent  to  our 
very  existence,  by  which  we  are  knit  and  connected  in 
the  eternal  frame  of  the  universe,  out  of  which  we  cannot 
stir."  *  It  was  his  high  aim  therefore  to  render  political 
science  religious  in  its  character,  and  to  found  govern- 
ment upon  a  sacred  and  reverential  sentiment  towards 
law,  in  the  breasts  of  the  governed.     Politics  in  his  eye, 

*  Speech  in  the  impeachment  of  Hastings.    Works,  iii,  p.  327. 


OF    THEOLOGIQAL    STUDIES.  47 

and  government  in  his  view,  are  essentially  different 
from  the  same  things,  as  viewed  by  that  large  elass  of 
political  men  who  do  not  appear  to  dream,  even,  that 
there  is  a  supernatural  world,  or  that  there  are  supernat- 
ural sanctions  and  supports  to  government.  But  the 
speculative  views  regarding  politics  advanced,  by  Burke 
will  never  be  practically  realized  among  the  nations,  until 
the  influence  of  the  high  themes  of  spiritual  theology  is 
felt  among  them,  and  political  science  will  not  be  a 
perfect  scheme,  until  constructed  in  the  light  and  by  the 
aid  of  theological  doctrine.  The  sanction,  the  sacredness, 
the  authority,  and  the  binding  power,  of  law,  as  the 
foundation  of  government  and  political  science,  for  which 
Burke  plead  so  eloquently,  come  from  the  supernatural 
world,  and  are  not  apprehensible  except  in  the  light  of 
that  science  which  treats  of  that  world.  The  fine  visions 
and  lofty  aspirations  of  Burke,  relative  to  government 
and  political  science,  depend  therefore  upon  the  practical 
and  theoretical  influence  of  theology  for  their  full  realiza- 
tion. 

Let  me  briefly  refer  to  another  instance,  in  which  we 
see  that  the  high  aims  of  a  most  profound  and  genial 
student  wiU  be  attained  only  under  the  influence  of  the 
science  of  the  supernatural.  It  has  been  the  high  endeavor 
of  ScheUing  to  spiritualize  natural  science ;  to  strip 
nature  of  its  hard  forms,  and  by  piercing  beneath  the 
material,  to  behold  it  as  immaterial  ideas,  laws,  and 
forces.*  This  is  not  only  a  beautiful,  but  it  is  the  true, 
idea  of  nature  and  natural  science.  ScheUing  however 
has  failed  to  realize  it  in  a  perfect  manner.  However 
great  may  be  his  merit  in  infusing  life  into  this  domain 


*  System  des  transcend.     Idealisnius,  p.  5.    For  a  full  exhibition  of  this 
method  of  natural  science,  see  Caras's  Physiologie,  Erster  Theil. 


48  THE    METHOD,   AND    INFLUENCE, 

of  knowledge,  and  in  overthrowing  the  mechanical  view 
of  nature,  he  has  not  constructed  his  system  so  as  to 
maintain  a  pure  theism,  and  therefore  when  viewed 
in  connection  with  the  true  system  of  the  universe,  with 
which  every  individual  science  must  harmonize,  its  falsity, 
in  the  great  whole  of  knowledge,  is  apparent.  And  the 
imperfection  of  this  system  is  owing,  first,  to  the  absence 
of  a  sharp  and  firm  line  of  distinction  between  the  natu- 
ral and  the  supernatural,  and  secondly,  to  the  want  of 
that  protection  from  pantheism,  which  a  truly  profound 
philosopher  can  find  only  in  the  purely  supernatural  doc- 
trines of  theology. 

It  is  not  true  then  that  the  theologian  by  profession  is 
alone  concerned  with  theology.  He  who  would  obtain 
correct  views  in  political  or  natural  science,  as  well  as 
he  who  would  be  a  mind  of  power  and  depth  in  the 
sphere  of  literature  ;  in  short,  the  student  generally ;  has 
a  vital  interest  in  the  truths  of  supernatural  science. — 
And  it  is  this  conviction,  gentlemen,  which  I  would  fix 
and  deepen  in  your  minds.  Your  attention  might  have 
been  directed  to  some  more  popular  theme ;  to  some  one 
of  the  aspects  of  polite  literature,  present  or  hoped  for ; 
but  I  preferred  to  direct  your  thoughts  to  a  range  of 
neglected  but  noble  studies,  confident  that  if  any  per- 
manent interest  should  be  thereby  awakened  in  your 
minds  towards  them,  a  substantial  benefit  would  be  con- 
ferred upon  you.  I  would  then,  not  with  the  feigned 
earnestness  which  too  generally  characterizes  appeals 
upon  such  an  occasion  as  the  present,  but  with  all  the 
solemn  earnestness  of  the  Sabbath,  urge  you  to  the  seri- 
ous pursuit  of  theological  studies.  It  matters  not,  which 
may  be  the  particular  field  in  which  you  are  to  labor  as 
educated  men ;  the  influence  of  these  studies  is  elevating 


OF    Tm:OLOGICA[.    STIDIES.  49 

and  enlarging  in  any  field,  and  upon  all  the  public  pro- 
fessions. 

If  the  Law  is  to  be  the  special  object  of  your  future 
study,  your  idea  of  human  law  will  be  purified  and 
coiTected  by  your  study  of  the  divine  law,  and  the  general 
spirit  and  bearing  of  your  practice  will  be  elevated  by 
those  high  studies  which,  more  than  any  others,  generate 
high  principles  of  action. 

Should  you  enter  the  arena  of  Political  life,  the  influ- 
ence of  these  studies  will  be  most  salutary.  In  this 
sphere,  a  man  at  the  present  day  needs  a  double  portion 
of  pm-e  and  lofty  principle,  and  should  anxiously  place 
himself  under  the  most  select  influences.  If  the  seriotts 
political  spirit  of  Washington,  and  Jay,  and  Madison,  is 
ever  again  to  actuate  om'  politics,  it  will  be  only  tlirough 
the  return  of  that  reverence  for  law,  as  flowing  from  a 
higher  reality  than  the  naturally  corrupt  will  of  man,  and 
that  faith  in  government  as  having  its  ground  and  sanc- 
tions in  the  supernatural  and  religious  world,  which 
clfaracterized  them.  If  politics  is  ever  to  cease  to  be  a 
game,  and  is  ever  again  to  be  considered  as  one  of  the 
solemn  interests  pertaining  to  human  existence,  it  will  be 
only  when  our  young  men  enter  this  field  undei  the 
influence  of  studies,  and  a  discipline,  that  purge  away 
low  and  sordid  views,  and  induce  a  serious  integrity  and 
a  self-sacrificing  patriotism.  If  then  you  would  sustain 
a  relation  to  the  government  of  your  country,  honorable 
to  yourselves,  and  beneficial  to  it,  imbue  your  minds  and 
baptize  your  views  and  opinions  with  the  theological 
spirit.  Then  you  will  be  a  statesman  in  the  old  and  best 
sense  of  the  word ;  not  a  mere  oflice  holder  or  seeker  of 
office;  but  one  in  whom  the  great  idea  of  the  state 
resides  and  lives,  and  who  by  its  indwelling  power  is  iuil 

5 


50  THE    METHOD,    AND    INFLUENCE, 

of  the  patriotic  sentiment,   and   inspired  by  the  nobh 
spirit  of  allegiance  to  government  and  country.* 

Finally,  if  you  are  to  be  one  of  the  ministers  and  in- 
terpreters of  Nature,  or  one  who  devotes  himself  to  the 
cultivation  of  Fine  Letters,  the  influence  of  these  stud- 
ies will  be  great  and  valuable.  In  the  light  of  the  super- 
natural, you  will  best  interpret  nature,  and  under  the 
power  of  theology,  you  will  be  best  enabled  to  contribute 
a  profound  and  lofty  addition  to  literature. 

No  one  who  watches  the  signs  of  the  times,  and 
especially  the  rapid  and  dangerous  change  now  going 
on  in  the  public  sentiment  of  our  country  relative  to  the 
foundations  of  religion,  government,  and  society,  can 
help  feeling  that  under  Providence,  very  much  is  depend- 
ing upon  the  principles  and  spmt  which  the  educated 
young  men  take  out  with  them  into  active  life.  Bacon, 
long  ago,  said  that  the  principles  of  the  young  men  of  a 
nation  decided  its  destiny,  and  the  course  of  human 
events  since  his  day  has  verified  his  assertion.  It  is  cer- 
tainly true  in  its  fullest  sense  of  this  nation  and  its 
young  men.  Unless  an  upbuilding  and  establishing  in- 
fluence proceeds  from  the  educated  class,  the  disorganiz- 
ing elements  which  are  already  in  a  furious  fermentation 
in  society  will  eventually  dissolve  all  that  is  solid  and 
fixed  in  it ;  and  unless  this  class  feel  some  stronger  and 
purer  influence  than  that  of  this  world ;  unless  it  feels 
the  power  of  the  objects  and  principles  of  the  other 
world ;  it  will  hasten  rather  than  counteract  the  coming 
dissolution.     Merely  human  culture,  and  merely  natural 

*  Das  Wort  Staatsmann  ist  hier  in  dem  Sinn  des  antiken  iroAiriKhs 
genommen,  und  es  soil  dabei  weniger  daran  gedacht  werden,  dasz  einer 
etwas  bestiramtes  im  Staat  zu  verrichten  hat,  was  volligzufallig  ist,  als  dasz 
einer  vorzugsweise  in  der  Idee  des  Staats  lebt.  Schleiermacher.  Reden. 
p.  28. 


OF    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  51 

s-:lence,  cannot  educe  that  moral  weight  and  force  in  the 
cultivated  class,  without  which  the  state  cannot  long 
hold  together.  These  must  come  from  the  general  influ- 
ence of  theological  science  upon  the  minds  of  the  edu- 
cated ;  from  the  infusion  into  culture  of  that  reverence 
for  God,  and  that  purifying  insight  into  supernatural 
truth,  without  which  culture  becomes  skeptical  and  shal- 
low, powerless  for  good  and  all-powerful  for  evil. 

In  closing,  permit  me  to  remind  you  that  you  need  the 
influence  of  these  studies  personally,  without  reference 
to  your  relations  to  the  world  at  large.  You  need  them 
in  order  to  attain  the  true  end  of  your  own  existence.  How- 
ever sedulously  you  may  cultivate  yourselves  in  other 
respects,  you  will  not  be  cultivated  for  eternity,  without 
the  study  and  vital  knowledge  of  theology.  It  has  been 
foreign  to  the  main  di'ift  of  my  discourse,  and  to  the 
occasion,  to  speak  of  that  deepest,  that  saving,  knowl- 
edge of  supernatLU'al  religion  which  proceeds  from  being 
taught  by  the  Eternal  Spirit.  I  have  spoken  only  of  the 
general  and  common  influence  of  the  doctrines  of  purely 
supernatLU'al,  in  distinction  from  those  of  merely  natural, 
theology.  They  have  a  great  power  in  themselves,  apart 
from  their  special  vivification  by  the  Divine  Spirit. 
This  is  worthy  of  being  sought  after,  and  to  this  I  have 
urged  you.  But  if  you  would  feel  the  full  power  of  the- 
ology ;  if  you  would  secure  the  freest,  fairest,  and  holiest 
development  of  your  spirits  ;  if  you  would  accomplish  the 
very  utmost  of  which  you  are  capable,  for  your  country 
and  for  man,  in  the  sphere  in  which  you  shall  be  called 
to  labor ;  if  you  would  secure  a  strength  which  you  wiU 
soon  find  you  need  in  the  struggle  into  which  you  are 
about  to  enter: — the  struggle  with  the  real  world,  and 
the  still  fiercer  struggle  with  your  real  selves  ;  then 
study  theology  experimentally.     The  discipline  to  which 


52    METHOD,  AND   INFLUENCE,  OF   THEOLOGICAL  STUDIES. 

you  have  been  subjected  in  the  course  of  your  trainmg 
in  this  University,  so  far  as  human  influence  can  do  so, 
leads  and  urges  you  in  this  direction ;  for  it  is  the  plan 
and  work  of  one  of  those  elect  and  superior  spirits  (few 
and  rare  in  our  earthly  race)  who  have  an  instinctive 
and  irresistible  tendency  to  the  Supernatural.*  This  has 
been  the  tendency  of  your  training,  and  if  you  will  only 
surrender  yourselves  to  this  tendency,  heightened  and 
made  effectual  by  special  divine  influences,  as  it  will  be 
for  every  scholar  who  seeks  them  with  a  solemn  spirit, 
you  will  fully  realize  the  idea  of  a  perfect  education. 

*  The  allusion  is  to  the  late  President  Marsh. 


THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BExVUTIFUL, 
AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE. 


A  DISCOURSE  DELIYERED  BEFORE  THE  LITERARY  SOCIETIES  OF  AMHERST 
COLLEGE,  AUGUST  13,  1861. 


Gentlemen  of  the   Literary  Societies  :  — 

Coming  as  I  do  in  the  most  beautiful  season  of  the 
year,  into  the  midst  of  some  of  the  most  beautiful  scenery 
on  the  continent,  and  from  the  midst  of  scenery  differ- 
ently but  equally  beautiful ;  coming  in  mid-summer  into 
the  valley  of  the  River  from  the  valley  of  the  Lake ;  you 
will  not  be  surprised  that  my  subject  has  connections  with 
the  environment  in  which  I  wrote  and  in  which  I  speak. 
Surrounded,  both  while  thinking  and  while  giving  utter- 
ance to  my  thoughts,  by  Beauty ;  composing  and  speak- 
ing in  the  midst  of  a  material  nature  satm-ated  and 
suffused  with  this  element ;  it  will  not  appear  forced  or 
unnatural  if  I  find  in  it,  the  theme  of  our  reflections  at 
this  hour. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  however  to  surrender  myself,  or 
to  lead  others  to  surrender  themselves,  to  the  extreme 
influence  and  impression  of  this  quality,  and  to  fall  into 
a  vague  and  rhapsodic  train  of  thought  or  feeUng.  On 
the  contrary  my  aim  will  be  purely  and  perhaps  intensely 
practical,  and  I  hope  with  the  aid  of  your  own  after- 
5*  (53) 


54       THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

thought  to  make  the  particular  aspect  of  the  general 
subject  of  Aesthetics,  that  will  be  exhibited,  contribute 
to  scholarship,  culture,  and  character. 

The  specific  theme  then,  to  which  I  would  invite  your 
attention,  is  :  Tlie  true  theory  and  relative  position  of  the 
Beautiful,  ivith  reference  more  particularly  to  culture  and 
to  character.  In  investigating  this  subject,  I  think  we 
shall  find  it  one  for  the  times,  and  the  class  of  men 
addressed.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  we  shall  find,  in  a  false 
theory  of  Beauty,  and,  as  a  consequence,  in  the  false 
position  which  it  holds  as  a  source  and  instrument  of 
culture,  the  root  of  some  of  the  radical  defects,  and  false 
tendencies,  of  the  educated  class.  For  if  this  class  need 
any  one  thing  more  than  another,  it  is  a  rational,  sober, 
and  severe,  estimate  of  the  essential  nature  of  the  Beauti- 
ful, and  especially  of  the  relation  which  it  sustains  to  the 
True  and  the  Good.  In  our  age  there  is  danger  that 
culture  will  go  the  way  that  Grecian  and  Roman  culture 
went,  and  from  the  same  cause  ;  an  undue  cultivation 
of  the  aesthetic  nature,  to  the  neglect  of  the  intellectual 
and  moral.  There  is  always  danger  lest  the  most  influ- 
ential class  in  society,  the  literary  and  cultivated  portion, 
form  and  shape  themselves  by  Beauty  more  than  by 
Truth,  by  Art  more  than  by  Philosophy  and  Religion. 

If  we  accept  the  Platonic  classification,  all  things  in 
the  universe  arrange  themselves  under  these  three  terms : 
the  Beautiful,  the  True,  and  the  Good.  These  three 
ideas  cover  and  include  all  that  can  possibly  come  before 
the  human  mind  as  a  worthy  object  of  thought  and 
action.  On  them,  as  a  foundation,  the  human  mind  has 
built  up  its  most  permanent  and  grandest  structures,  and 
with  them,  in  some  one  or  other  of  their  manifold  aspects 
the  human  mind  is  constantly  occupied.  The  idea  of 
the  Good  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  religion,  and  of  all 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  55 

inquiries  connected  with  this  chief  concern  of  man.  The 
idea  of  the  True  lies  at  the  bottom  of  ail  science,  and  of 
the  scientific  tendency  in  individuals  and  nations.  The 
idea  of  the  Beautiful  underlies  all  those  products  and 
agencies  of  the  human  soul  that  address  the  imagination  ; 
all  art,  and  all  literature  in  the  stricter  signification  of  the 
lerm,  as  the  antithesis  of  science.  This  classification, 
the  work  of  the  most  philosophic  brain  of  antiquity,  at 
once  so  simple  and  so  comprehensive,  may  therefore  well 
stand  as  the  condensation  and  epitome  of  all  thought, 
and  the  key  to  all  the  varieties  in  human  culture  and 
national  character. 

But  what  is  the  order  in  which  these  ideas  stand  ?  — 
Which  is  first  and  which  is  last  in  importance  ?  Which 
is  most  necessary  and  absolute  in  its  nature  ?  Which  is 
the  substance,  and  which  is  the  accident  ?  The  answer 
to  these  questions,  the  theory  upon  this  point,  according 
as  it  shall  be,  is  either  vital  or  fatal.  It  will  determine 
the  whole  style  and  character  of  human  culture,  both 
individual  and  national.  If  Beauty  is  placed  first,  in 
speculation  and  in  Life,  and  Truth  and  Goodness  are 
regarded  as  subordinate,  a  corresponding  style  of  educa- 
tion will  follow.  If  the  True  and  the  Good  are  recog- 
nized as  the  substance,  and  the  Beautiful  as  the  property 
and  shadow,  another  and  entirely  different  style  will 
result.  Here,  therefore,  the  inquirer  stands  at  the  point 
of  divergence  between  the  two  principal  species  of  civili- 
zation and  culture  of  which  human  history  is  made  up ; 
that  of  luxury,  enervation,  decline,  and  fall,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  that  of  severity,  strength,  growth,  and  gi'an- 
deur,  on  the  other.  At  this  point,  also,  he  stands  upon 
the  line  which  divides  the  lower  from  the  higher  forms 
of  literature ;  the  lower  from  the  higher  products  of  art 
itself;  the  more  shallow  and  erroneous,  from  the  more 


6Gr  THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

profound  and  correct,  systems  of  philosophy  and  religion. 
Here  is  the  summit-level  and  ridge  whence  the  streams 
flow  due  east  and  due  west,  never  to  mingle  in  a  common 
ocean.  For  if  history  teaches  anything,  it  teaches  that 
according  as  a  nation  and  a  national  mind  starts  from 
the  one  or  the  other  of  these  ideas,  as  a  point  of  depar 
ture  and  as  the  guiding  thought  in  its  career,  will  be  its 
style  of  development. 

The  true  theory  of  Beauty  subordinates  it  to  the  True 
and  the  Good.  Any  estimate  of  it,  that  sets  it  above 
these  two  eternal  and  necessary  ideas,  is  both  incorrect 
and  unphilosophical.  The  closer  we  think,  and  the 
nearer  we  get  to  the  essence  of  these  three  conceptions, 
the  more  clearly  shall  we  perceive  that  while  Truth  and 
Goodness  appear  more  and  more  absolute  and  necessary. 
Beauty,  in  comparison  with  them,  appears  more  and  more 
relative  and  contingent.  The  human  mind  can  never,  in 
its  own  thinking,  annihilate  the  True  and  the  Good,  i.  e. 
it  cannot  conceive  of  their  non-existence.  It  cannot 
abstract  them  from  the  Divine  nature  and  from  the 
created  universe,  and  have  anything  substantial  left.  — 
These  fnust  be. 

=^  *  *  *  if  these  fail, 

The  pillared  firmament  is  rottenness 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble. 

But  not  so  with  Beauty.  The  mind  can  abstract  it 
from  the  nature  of  God,  and  if  Truth  and  Goodness  still 
remain,  there  is  still  something  august,  something  awe- 
inspiring,  something  sublime,  left.  The  mind  can  think 
it  away  from  the  universe  of  God,  but  if  that  universe  is 
still  filled  with  the  manifestations  of  wisdom  and  excel- 
lence, it  is  still  worthy  of  its  architect.  It  is  indeed  true 
that  Beauty  has  a  real  andimmanentexistence,both  in  the 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  •)? 

being  of  (tocI  and  in  creation ;  but  the  point  we  are 
urging  is,  that  it  is  there  as  subordinate  to  these  moral 
elements,  and  these  higher  ideas.  It  is  indeed  true  that 
from  eternity  to  eternity  Beauty  is  a  quality  in  the  nature 
of  the  First  Perfect  and  the  First  Fair,  and  from  this  foun- 
tain has  welled  up  and  poured  over  into  the  whole  creation 
of  God  like  sunset  into  the  hemisphere,  but  it  has  been 
only  as  the  accompaniment  and  adornment  of  higher  and 
more  august  qualities.  The  Beautiful  is  not,  as  some 
teach,  either  the  True  or  the  Good ;  neither  is  it  more 
absolute  and  perfect  than  these.  These  are  the  substance, 
the  eternal  essence,  and  it,  in.  relation  to  tliem^  is  the  acci- 
dent. The  Beautiful  indeed  inheres  in  the  True  and  the 
Good,  and  it  forever  accompanies  them,  even  as  light, 
according  to  the  fine  saying  of  Plato,  is  the  shadow  of 
God  ;  but  it  is  not  therefore  to  be  regarded  as  the  highest 
of  all  ideas,  or  as  the  crowning  element  in  the  universe. 

For  where  does  Beauty  reside  ?  Where  is  its  seat? 
Always  in  the/6>rw,  as  distinguished  from  the  substance. 
When  the  human  soul  swells  with  the  feeling,  it  is 
impressed  not  by  the  truth  and  substantial  reality  of  an 
object,  but  by  something  that  in  comparison  with  this  is 
secondary  and  accidental.  When,  for  example,  the 
sense  for  Beauty  is  completely  filled  and  deluged  by  a 
sun-set  or  a  sun-rise,  the  essential  meaning  of  this  scene 
is  not  necessarily  in  the  soul.  That  which  this  scene  is 
for  Science,  its  truth  for  the  pure  intellect,  is  most  cer- 
tainly not  in  the  mind ;  for  the  poetic  vision  and  the 
scientific  vision  are  contraries.  And  that  which  h  is  for 
Religion  may  be,  and  too  often  is,  alien  to  the  soul ;  for 
this  feeling  for  the  Beauty  that  is  in  the  sun-rise,  is  by 
no  means  identical  with  the  feeling  for  the  Goodness  that 
is  there.  In  every  instance  it  is  the  form  and  not  the 
substance,   it   is    the   beauty    and   not    the   truth,   that 


58        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

addresses  the  aesthetic  nature,  while  in  every  instance  it 
is  the  substance  and  not  the  form,  it  is  the  true  and  not 
the  beautiful,  that  addresses  the  intellectual  and  moral 
natures. 

And  why  should  it  not  be  so  ?  If,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  Beautiful  is  a  subordinate  quality ;  if  it  is  only  the 
glittering  garment  of  the  universe  ;  to  what  part  of  man's 
nature  should  it  appeal,  but  to  that  luxury  rather  than 
necessity  of  the  human  soul,  the  aesthetic  sense.  And 
so  it  is.  Over  against  that  Beauty  which  the  Creator 
has  poured  with  lavish,  I  had  almost  said  indifferent, 
hand,  over  his  creation,  he  has  set  a  portion  of  man's  na- 
ture, whose  function  it  is  to  drink  it  in,  and  as  He  never 
intended  that  this  mere  decoration  of  his  works  should 
engross  the  soul  to  the  exclusion  of  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  (displayed  in  them,  so  He  never  intended  that 
the  sense  for  the  Beautiful  should  absorb  and  destroy 
the  sense  for  the  True  and  the  Good. 

We  shall  see  still  more  clearly  the  correctness  of  this 
theory  of  the  Beautiful,  by  considering  for  a  moment  the 
nature  and  influence  of  that  department  which  is  based 
upon  this  idea,  viz  :  Fine  Art.  The  aim  and  end  of 
Art  is  fine  form,  and  nothing  but  fine  form.  I  do  not 
forget  that  in  every  work  of  Art  there  is  a  truth  at  the 
bottom,  and  that  the  power  of  a  painting  or  a  statue  is 
dependent  upon  the  meai'iuig  everywhere  present  in  it. 
Still  this  significant  thought  at  the  base,  this  intellectual 
expression  in  the  product,  is  not  that  which  constitutes  it  a 
work  'of  Art.  It  is  the  beauty  of  this  thought,  the  fine 
form  of  this  idea,  which  is  the  end  of  Art,  and  which 
renders  its  products  different  from  those  of  Science.  For 
if  Art  were  merely  and  purely  an  expression  of  truth,  how 
would  it  differ  from  Science,  and  why  would  not  every 
subject  that  had  meaning  in  it  be  a  fit  one  for  the  artist? 


AXD  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  59 

Art.  it  is  true,  has  a  significance,  and  it  is  high  and  ideal 
in  proportion  to  the  depth  and  fuhiess  of  the  idea  it  em- 
bodies, yet  it  differs  from  Science  and  Religion  by  em- 
ploying both  the  True  and  the  Good  as  means  only.  Its 
own  sole  end  is  Beauty,  to  which  it  subordinates  all 
else.  It  embodies  Truth  and  Virtue  only  that  it  may 
exhibit  the  beauty  in  them,  and  addresses  the  intellect  and 
heart  only  that  it  may  reach  the  imagination.  After  all 
its  connection  with  the  substance,  Art  is  still  formal. 
And  this  is  no  disparagement  to  it.  It  is  no  undervalu- 
ation to  draw  sharp  lines  about  a  department  of  human 
eflfort,  and  strip  off  what  does  not  essentially  belong  to  it. 
Fine  Art  has  its  own  proper  and  important  vocation,  and 
Science  and  Religion  have  theirs,  and  each  is  honored  by 
being  strictly  defined,  and  rigorously  confined  to  its  own 
aim,  end,  and  limits. 

Now  such  being  the  nature  of  Fine  Art,  considered  as 
a  department  of  human  effort  and  an  instrument  to  be 
employed  in  educating  the  human  mind,  what  must  be 
its  influence  if  left  to  itself ;  if  unbalanced  and  uncom- 
pleted by  other  departments  ?  What  style  of  culture 
will  the  idea  of  the  Beautiful  originate  in  the  individual 
and  national  mind,  when  severed  from  the  ideas  of  the 
True  and  the  Good  ?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  to  be 
found  in  history.  One  of  the  great  historical  races,  in 
the  plan  of  Providence,  received  its  training  and  develop- 
ment under  the  excessive  and  exorbitant  influence  of 
Beauty,  and  for  a  moment  I  invite  your  attention  to  an 
examination  of  the  results. 

The  Greek  mind  was  eminently  aesthetic,  and  the 
Greek  nature  was  controlled  by  a  too  strong  and  intense 
tendency  to  the  Beautiful.  If  the  human  mind  is  truth- 
ful and  solemn  anywhere,  it  is  so  within  the  sphere  of  re- 
ligion ;  but  we  may  say  of  the  Greek,  as  was  said  of  one 


60       THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

of  the  most  genial  of  modern  errorists  by  one  of  the  most 
profound  of  modern  thinkers,  that  he  was  more  in  love 
with  the  beauty  of  religion  than  its  truth.  The  Greek 
religion  was  the  worship  of  Beauty,  and  the  whole  life 
of  the  people  ;  private  and  public,  literary  and  political ; 
was  formed  by  this  idea  to  an  extent  and  thoroughness 
never  witnessed  before  or  since.  But  the  Greek  mind, 
with  all  the  charm  and  influence  it  has  exerted  upon  the 
modern  mind,  and  will  continue  to  exert  till  the  last  syl- 
lable of  recorded  time,  had  one  great  and  radical  defect. 
The  True  and  the  Holy  did  not  interest  it  sufficiently. 
These  ideas  did  not  mould  it  and  form  it  from  the  cen- 
tre. Hence  the  Greek  nature  was  not  a  deep  and  sol- 
emn one.  It  never  felt,  unless  we  except  the  heroic 
period  in  its  history  ;  a  period  that  is  hardly  historic ;  the 
influence  of  that  which  is  higher  than  Beauty,  and  which 
has  an  affinity  with  a  more  profound  part  of  the  human 
constitution  than  the  aesthetic  sense. 

The  truth  is,  that  as  the  intellectual  and  moral  nature 
of  man  is  his  highest  endowment,  so  the  True  and  the 
Good,  as  the  highest  ideas,  are  its  proper  correspondent. 
When,  therefore,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Greek,  a  relatively  in- 
ferior portion  of  the  soul  became  superior,  and  a  relatively 
inferior  idea  became  ultimate  and  engrossing,  it  was  not 
possible  that  the  highest  development  of  human  nature 
should  take  place,  or  the  highest  style  of  culture  should 
be  originated.  The  influence  which  the  Greek  mind  has 
exerted  upon  the  modern  world,  great  as  it  has  been,  and 
beneficial  as  it  has  been,  has  nevertheless  not  been  of  the 
absolutely  highest  order,  unless  we  set  the  aesthetic 
above  the  intellectual  and  moral.  Art  before  Science  and 
Religion,  and  the  culture  springing  from  the  form  above 
that  springing  from  the  substance. 

Far  be  it  from   me,  on  such   an  occasion  and  before 


AND    ITS    REI.ATION    TO    CULTURE.  61 

such  an  audience,  to  undervalue  classical  education.  I 
have  not  the  slightest  sympathy  with  that  Jacobinism  in 
literature,  which  would  throw  aside  the  study  of  the  an- 
cient classics  and  shut  out  the  modern  mind  from  the 
beauty,  and  symmetry,  and  cultivating  influence,  of 
Greek  and  Roman  letters.  Still  it  should  be  remembered 
that  no  single  literature  can  do  everything  for  the  human 
intellect.  On  the  contrary,  each  and  every  literature  that 
is  historic  has  one  particular  function  to  perform.  In 
the  education  of  the  modern  mind,  classical  literature 
has  its  own  peculiar  office  to  discharge,  and  this  is,  to  in- 
fuse that  beauty  and  symmetry  which  it  possesses  in  so 
high  degree  into  modern  thought ;  to  furnish  a  fine  Form 
for  the  modern  Idea.  For  it  must  not  for  a  moment  be 
supposed  that  the  modern  mind  is  to  go  back  to  the 
ancient  for  the  substance  of  literature.  The  Chris- 
tian world  cannot  go  back  into  the  Pagan  world  in 
search  for  the  True  and  the  Good,  but  it  ever  must  go 
back  there  for  the  Beautiful.  For  the  sphere  of  knowing, 
and  consequently  of  reflection  and  feeling,  in  which  the 
ancient  mind  moved,  was  naiTow  and  contracted,  com- 
pared with  the  "  infinite  and  sea-like  arena "  on  which 
the  modern  careers.  Not  that  minds  may  not  be 
found  in  the  ancient  world  of  equal  depth,  grasp,  and 
power,  with  any  that  have  adorned  modern  literature, 
but  the  materials  on  which  they  were  compelled  to  labor 
fell  far  short  of  that  which  is  the  subject  of  modern  eftbrt, 
in  depth,  richness,  and  compass.  The  range  of  thought 
and  feeling,  in  which  the  ancient  mind  moved,  in  respect 
to  the  great  subjects  pertaining  to  man's  origin  and  des- 
tiny, was  "  cabined,  cribbed  and  confined,"  compared 
with  that  vast  expanse  in  which  it  is  the  privilege  of 
the  modern  to  think  and  feel.  The  Christian  Revela 
tion,  while  it  imparted  more  determinaleness  and  signifi- 

6 


62         THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

cance  to  those  doctrines  of ,  natural  religion  u}3on  which 
Plato  and  Aristotle  had  reflected  with  such  truthfulness 
and  profundity,  at  the  same  time  lodged  in  the  mind  of 
the  modern  world  an  amount  of  new  truth,  that  widened 
infinitely  the  field  of  human  vision,  and  the  scope  of  hu- 
man reflection.  We  have  but  to  compare  Homer,  Aes- 
chylus, and  Virgil,  with  Dante,  Shakspeare,  and  Milton, 
to  see  how  immensely  the  range  of  the  human  mind  was 
augmented  by  a  Divine  Revelation.  In  these  latter 
instances,  it  moves  in  a  region  large  enough  for  it, 
and  feels  the  influence  of  those  "truths  deep  as  the 
centre "  with  which  it  is  connected  by  origin  and  des- 
tiny ;  while  in  the  former  instances,  though  the  vague 
yearnings,  and  obscure  anticipations,  and  unsatisfied 
longings,  evidence  the  heaven-born  nature  of  the  human 
spirit,  yet  they  serve  only  to  reveal  still  more  clearly  the 
helplessness  of  its  bondage,  and  the  closeness  of  its  con- 
finement to  this  "  bank  and  shoal  of  time."  * 

But  although  the  Christian  Religion  so  widened  the 
sphere  of  human  thought  and  feeling,  and  so  deepened 
and  spiritualized  the  processes  of  the  human  mind,  and  so 
enriched  it  in  the  material  for  literature,  it  indirectly 
diminished  its  artistic  ability,  and  rendered  it  less  able  to 
embody  its  conceptions.  This  very  opulence  in  the  ma- 
terial, and  this  very  elevation  of  the  theme,  embarrassed 
the  mind.  For  in  proportion  to  the  richness  and  intrin- 
sic excellence  of  the  thought,  does  the  diflficulty  increase, 

*  Hence  that  undertone  of  melancholy  in  the  more  serious  portions  of 
classical  literature,  (as  the  Histories  of  Tacitus,  and  the  Morals  of  Plu- 
tarch) unrelieved  by  any  notes  of  hope  or  triumph  struck  out  by  the  knowl- 
edge, and  the  prospect,  of  the  final  consummation.  The  gloom  of  Dante 
is  far  different  from  the  gloom  of  Aeschylus ;  for  while,  like  his,  it  springs 
from  the  consciousness  of  the  life-long  conflict  between  good  and  evil,  it  is 
illumined  by  the  knowledge  of  the  final  issue.  In  the  case  of  the  Pagan, 
the  gloom  is  made  thicker  by  the  total  ignorance  of  the  great  hereafter. 


AND  ITS  RKLATION  TO  CULTURE.  63 

of  })ulting  it  into  a  form  worthy  of  it.  Tlie  problem  of 
Art,  m  every  instance,  is  to  attain  an  exact  coiTespond- 
ence  between  the  matter  and  the  form ;  to  embody  the 
idea  in  just  the  right  amount  of  material,  so  that  the 
idea  shall  not  overflow  and  drown  the  form,  nor  the  form 
overlay  and  crush  the  idea.  Hence,  among  other  quali- 
ties, the  cleanness^  the  iiicetiess^  of  a  successful  work  of 
Art.  But  this  problem,  it  is  plain,  becomes  more  diffi- 
cult, in  proportion  as  the  idea,  or  guiding  thought,  is 
more  profound  or  significant  in  its  nature.  For  by  rea- 
son of  its  depth  and  expanse  it  becomes  vastly  more 
comprehensive  and  pregnant,  and  less  capable  of  being 
brought  within  the  limitation  of  Art,  within  the  bounds 
of  a  form.  The  nearer  the  subject-matter  approaches 
the  infinite ;  the  more  vast  and  unlimited  the  idea  in  the 
mind ;  the  greater  the  difficulty  of  exhibiting  it  in  the 
finite  shapings  of  Art. 

Now  the  ancient  mind  had  these  advantages.  In  the 
first  place  the  material,  the  truth,  upon  which  it  labored, 
was  far  more  wieldy  and  compassable  than  that  which 
is  presented  to  the  modern  mind,  and  in  the  second 
place  it  was  (especially  in  the  instance  of  the  Greek)  a 
much  more  artistic  mind,  in  and  of  itself.  The  result, 
consequently,  was  a  far  closer  correspondence  between 
the  substance  and  the  form,  and  hence  a  much  more 
successful  solution  of  the  problem  of  Fine  Art,  than  has 
ever  been  attained  by  any  other  people. 

The  modern  mind  therefore,  the  Christian  world,  while 
it  cannot  go  back  into  the  Pagan  world  for  the  substance 
of  literature,  for  the  True  and  the  Good,  must  ever  go 
back  there  for  the  form,  for  the  Beautiful.  And  it  was 
precisely  because  the  European  mind,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  felt  the  need  of  this  aesthetic  element  in  culture, 
which  it  was  conscious  of  not  possessing,  that  it  betook 


64        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

itself  to  classical  literature.  At  that  period,  when  the 
human  mind  was  waking  up  from  the  dormancy  of  the 
middle  ages,  and  was  beginning  to  feel  the  fresh  im- 
pulses of  the  Christian  Religion,  it  was  filled,  to  overflow- 
ing, with  ideas  and  principles,  thoughts  and  feelings.  Its 
powers  and  energies  were  being  almost  preternaturally 
roused  by  this  influx  of  new  truth,  the  natural  tendency 
of  which  is  to  stir  the  human  soul,  preconformed  as  it  is 
to  its  influence,  to  its  inmost  centre.  But  this  season 
of  mental  fermentation  was  no  time  for  serene  contem- 
plation, and  beautiful  construction.  The  whole  materiel 
for  a  new  literature  was  originated ;  but  originated  in  a 
mind  agitated  to  its  lowest  depths  by  the  energy  and 
force  that  was  pouring  through  it,  and  which  for  this 
very  reason  was  not  master  of  itself,  or  of  the  material 
with  which  it  was  laboring.  Form ;  rounded,  symmetri- 
cal, finished,  Form;  was  needed  for  this  Matter,  and 
hence  the  modern  betook  himself  to  the  study  of  that  lit- 
erature preeminent  above  all  others  for  its  artistic  per- 
fection. The  study  of  the  serene  and  beautiful  models 
in  which  Grecian  thought  embodied  itself,  tamed  the 
wildly-working  mind  of  the  Goth,  and  imparted  to  it 
that  calm,  artistic,  formative^  power  by  which  the  intel- 
lectual chaos  was  to  become  cosmos.* 

*  It  is  indeed  true,  that  in  the  higher  forms  of  Greek  literature  there  is  a 
remarkable  depth  and  seriousness  of  sentiment  which  seems  to  militate 
against  the  position  taken.  Here  the  Beautiful  is  more  in  the  back-ground, 
and  the  True  mainly  in  the  fore-ground.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
that  the  real  nature  and  tendency  of  the  Greek  appears  far  more  in  the 
lighter  forms  of  the  literature,  and  especially  in  that  wilderness  of  works  of 
Art  that  covered  all  Greece,  than  in  the  deep-toned  poetry  of  Homer  and 
Aeschylus,  or  the  profound  sentiment  of  Plato  and  Thucydides.  This  por- 
tion of  Greek  literature  derived  its  tone  and  matter  from  tluit  elder  period  ; 
that  heroic  age;  when  the  national  mind  was  impressed,  as  the  elder  mind 
always  has  been,  more  by  the  essential  than  the  formal,  more  by  Truth 
than  by  Beauty. 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  65 

But  if  the  literature  of  the  Greeks  is  predominantly 
aesthetic,  and  performs  this  aesthetic  function  in  the  sys- 
tem of  modern  education,  the  national  character  was 
still  more  so.  The  student  of  Grecian  history,  especially 
of  the  internal  history  of  the  Greeks,  is  struck  with  the 
disparity  between  the  national  character  and  the  na- 
tional hterature ;  between  the  products  of  the  Greek 
mind,  or  rather  of  a  few  choice  Greek  minds,  and  the 
Greek  himself.  The  more  the  student  becomes  acquaint- 
ed with  that  extremely  imaginative  and  extremely  tasteful, 
but  too  lively  and  too  volatile,  race  of  men,  the  more 
does  he  wonder  that  so  much  depth  and  truth  of  senti- 
ment should  be  found  in  the  literature  that  sprang  up 
among  them  ;  the  more  does  he  wonder  that  the  native 
bent  and  tendency  of  the  national  mind  did  not  overrule, 
and  suppress,  all  these  higher  elements.  It  is  only  on 
the  supposition  that  the  great  men  of  Greece  were  above 
their  race,  and  breathed  in  a  more  solemn  and  medita- 
tive atmosphere  than  that  sunny  air  in  which  the  Athe- 
nian populace  lived,  that  he  can  account  for  the  remark- 
able difierence  between  the  profound,  severe,  and  moral, 
spirit  of  the  Greek  tragedy,  and  the  fickle,  gay,  and  alto- 
gether trifling,  temper  of  the  Ionic  race. 

Whatever  this  excessive  tendency  to  the  Beautiful 
may  have  wrought  out  of  the  Greeks,  in  some  respects, 
it  is  certain  that  it  contributed  to  the  enervation  and  de- 
struction of  all  strong  character  in  the  nation.  That 
Ionic  race,  instead  of  following  indulgently  and  extrava- 
gantly, as  they  did,  their  native  bias,  ought  to  have  sub- 
jected it  to  the  most  severe  education  and  restraint. 
Those  two  other  ideas  which  dawned  in  such  solemnity 
and  power  upon  the  intellect  of  their  greatest  philoso- 
pher, ought  to  have  rained  down  influence  upon  them. 
Those  more  serious  and  awe-inspiring  objects  of  reflection, 

6* 


66        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

the  True  and  the  Good,  ought  to  have  dawned  upon  the 
popular  mind  in  a  clearer  light  and  with  a  more  overcom- 
ing power.  How  different,  so  far  as  all  the  gi-and  and 
heroic  elements  of  national  character  are  concerned,  were 
the  Greeks  of  that  golden  age  of  ancient  Art,  the  age  of 
Pericles,  from  the  Romans  of  the  days  of  Numa  I  We 
grant  that  there  is  but  little  outward  beauty,  in  that 
naked  and  austere  period  in  Roman  history,  but  there  is 
to  be  found  in  that  character^  as  it  comes  down  to  us  in 
the  legends  of  Livy  and  has  been  reconstructed  in  the 
pages  of  Niebuhr,  the  strongest,  and  soundest,  and 
grandest,  and  sublimest,  nationality  in  the  Pagan  world. 
And  this  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  early  Roman 
was  intellectual  and  moral,  rather  than  aesthetic.  I  am 
speaking,  it  will  be  remembered,  of  a  Pagan  character, 
and  my  remarks  must  be  taken  in  a  comparative  sense. 
Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  may  say  that  the  strength  and 
grandeur  of  the  national  character  of  the  first  Romans, 
sprang  from  the  fact  that  it  was  moulded  and  shaped  main- 
ly by  the  ideas  of  Truth  and  Virtue.  The  aesthetic  nature 
was  repressed,  and,  if  you  please,  almost  entirely  suppress- 
ed, but  the  intellect  and  the  moral  sense  were  developed 
all  the  more.  Hence  those  high  qualities  in  their  na- 
tional character ;  courage,  energy,  firmness,  probity,  pat- 
riotism, reverence  for  the  gods  and  the  oath ;  qualities 
that  were  hardly  more  visible  in  the  ancient,  than  they 
are  in  the  modern,  Greek. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  more  distinct  consideration 
of  what  we  suppose  to  be  the  influence  of  Fine  Art, 
when  it  becomes  the  leading  department  of  eftbrt,  and 
the  chief  instrument  and  end  of  culture,  for  the  individ- 
ual or  the  nation.  The  effect  of  the  Beautiful  upon  the 
human  soul,  when  unmixed,  uncounteracted,  and  exorbi- 
tant, is  enervation.     And  this,  from   the  very  nature  of 


AND  THE  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  6"^ 

the  element  itself.  We  have  seen  that  it  cannot  be 
placed  upon  an  equality  with  the  other  two  elements  that 
enter  into  the  constitution  of  the  universe.  It  cannot  be 
regarded  as  so  substantial  and  so  necessary  in  its  nature, 
as  the  True  and  the  Holy.  It  is  only  the  property  and 
decoration  of  that  which  is  essential  and  absolute.  Tt  is 
only  the  form.  It  consequently  does  not  address  the 
highest  faculties  of  the  human  soul,  and  if  it  did,  could 
not  waken  or  generate  power  in  them.  When,  therefore, 
it  is  made  to  do  the  work  of  the  higher  ideas ;  when  it  is 
compelled  to  go  beyond  its  own  proper  sphere,  the  aesthet- 
ic nature,  and  to  fm-nish  aliment  for  the  intellectual  and 
moral  nature  ;  it  is  set  at  a  work  it  can  never  do.  The 
intellect  and  moral  sense  demand  their  own  approj)riate 
objects  ;  they  require  their  correlatives,  the  True  and  the 
Good ;  they  cry  out  for  the  substance  and  cannot  be  sat- 
isfied with  the  form,  however  beautiful.  When  there- 
fore Beauty  is  selected  as  the  great  idea,  by  which  the 
individual  or  national  mind  is  to  be  moulded,  the  result 
is  of  necessity  mental  enervation.  The  human  intellect 
cannot,  any  more  than  the  human  heart,  be  content  with 
mere  form.  Like  the  heart,  it  cries  out,  in  its  own  way, 
for  the  living  God ;  for  Truth  and  Goodness,  the  most 
essential  qualities  in  the  Divine  nature  ;  for  Wisdom  and 
Virtue,  the  most  essential  elements  in  the  moral  universe 
He  has  made.  And  what  is  there  in  the  very  process  of 
Art  itself,  when  it  is  isolated  from  the  other  and  higher 
departments  of  human  effort,  that  goes  to  render  man 
more  intellectual  ?  The  very  vocation  of  Art  is  to  sen- 
sualize ;  using  the  term  technically  and  in  no  bad  sense. 
Its  processes,  so  far  as  they  are  merely  artistic,  are  not 
spiritualizing,  but  the  contrary.  The  vocation  of  Art  is 
to  bring  down  an  idea  of  the  human  mind ;  a  purely  in- 
tellectual, pui'ely  immaterial,  entity ;  into  the  sphere  of 


68        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

sense,  and  there  materialize  it  into  colors,  and  lines,  and 
outlines,  and  proportions,  for  the  sense.  The  very  call- 
ing of  Art,  as  a  department  of  effort,  is  to  render  sensu- 
ous the  spiritual.  And  the  fact  that  it  does  this,  in  the 
case  of  all  high  Art,  in  an  ideal  manner ;  that  in  the  gen- 
uine product,  the  idea  shines  out  everywhere  through  the 
beautiful  form  ;  does  not  conflict  with  the  position.  If, 
therefore,  in  a  general  way  and  for  the  purpose  of  char- 
acterizing the  departments,  we  may  say  that  in  Science 
and  Religion  the  mental  process  is  spiritualizing,  we 
may  affirm  that  in  Art  the  process  is  sensualizing.  If  in 
the  analysis  and  synthesis  of  the  True  and  the  Good,  the 
mind  passes  through  an  increasingly  intellectual  process, 
in  the  embodiment  of  the  merely  Beautiful,  it  passes 
through  an  exactly  opposite  one.  If  Philosophy  and  Re- 
ligion tend  to  render  the  mind  more  intellectual.  Fine  Art 
tends  to  render  it  more  material  and  sensuous  by  fixing 
the  eye  on  the  form. 

Now  such  an  influence  as  this  upon  the  human  mind 
and  character,  if  unbalanced  and  uncounteracted,  is 
enervating.  There  may  be,  and  generally  has  been, 
great  outward  refinement  and  a  most  luxurious  ele- 
gance thrown  over  the  culture  that  originates  under 
such  influences,  but  it  is  too  generally  at  the  expense  of 
strength  and  virtue  and  heroism  of  character.  However 
high  the  aims  of  the  individual  or  the  nation  may  have 
been  in  the  outset,  history  shows  too  plainly,  that  the 
nerve  was  soon  relaxed  and  the  mind  slackened  all  away, 
at  first,  into  a  too  luxurious,  and  finally,  into  a  voluptu- 
ous culture.  When  the  Artist,  by  the  very  theory  and 
metaphysical  nature  of  his  vocation,  is  compelled  to  keep 
his  eye  on  Beauty,  on  Fine  Form,  on  the  sensuously 
Agreeable,  he  must  be  a  strong  and  virtuous  nature  that 
is  not  mastered  by  his  calling.     If  he  can  preserve  an 


AND    ITS    RELATION    TO    CULTURE.  69 

austere  tone  ;  if  he  can  even  keep  himself  up  on  the  high 
ground  of  an  abstract  and  ideal  Art,  and  not  sink  into  a 
too  ornate  and  licentious  style ;  we  may  be  certain  that 
there  was  great  moral  stamina  at  bottom. 

But  speculation  aside,  let  us  appeal  to  history  again. 
"What  does  the  story  of  Art  in  modern  times  teach  in 
relation  to  the  position  that  the  unmixed,  unbalanced, 
eftect  of  tiie  Beautiful,  is  mental  enervation  ?  The  most 
wonderful  age  of  Art  was  that  of  Leo  X.  The  long 
slumber  of  the  aesthetic  nature  of  man,  during  the  bar- 
barism and  warfare  of  those  five  centuries  between  Ihe 
dismemberment  of  the  Roman  empire  and  the  establish- 
ment of  the  principal  nations  and  nationalities  of  modern 
Europe,  was  broken  by  an  outburst  of  Beauty  and  Beauti- 
ful Ai't,  as  sudden,  rapid,  and  powerful,  as  the  bloom  and 
blossom  of  spring  in  the  arctic  zone.  Such  a  multitude 
of  artists  and  such  an  opulence  of  artistic  talent,  will 
probably  never  be  witnessed  again  in  one  age  or  nation. 
But  did  a  grand,  did  even  a  respectable,  national  charac- 
ter spring  into  existence  along  with  this  bloom  of  Art, 
this  shower  of  Beauty  ?  We  know  that  there  were  other 
influences  at  work,  and  among  others  a  religious  system 
whose  very  nature  it  is  to  carnalize  and  stifle  all  that  is 
distinctively  spiritual  in  the  human  soul ;  but  no  one  can 
study  the  history  of  the  period,  without  being  convinced 
that  this  excessive  and  all-absorbing  tendency  of  the 
general  mind  of  Italy  towards  Beauty  and  Fine  Ai't,  con- 
tributed greatly  to  the  general  enervation  of  soul.  Most 
certainly  it  did  not  work  counter  to  it.  Read  the  me- 
moirs of  a  man  like  Benvenuto  Cellini ;  an  inferior  man 
it  is  true,  but  an  artist  and  reflecting  the  general  features 
of  his  time  ;  and  see  how  utterly  unflt  both  the  individual 
and  national  culture  of  that  period  was  for  any  lofty, 
high-minded,  truly  historic,  achievement.     The  soltuim 


70        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

truths  of  Religion,  and  the  lofty  truths  of  Philosophy, 
exerted  little  or  no  influence  upon  that  group  of  Italian 
artists,  so  drunken  with  Beauty.  They  possessed  little 
of  that  intellectual  severity  which  enters  into  every  great 
character ;  little  of  that  strung  muscle  and  hard  nerve 
which  should  support  the  intellect  as  well  as  the  will.  — 
And  therefore  it  is  that  we  cannot  find  in  the  Italian  his- 
tory of  those  ages,  any  more  than  in  the  Italian  character 
of  the  present  day,  any  of  that  high  emprise  and  grand 
achievement  which  crowds  the  history  of  the  Teutonic 
races,  less  art-loving,  but  more  intellectual  and  moral.  — - 
These  races  and  their  descendants  have  sometimes  been 
charged  with  a  destitution  of  the  aesthetic  sense,  and  the 
inferiority  of  their  Art,  compared  with  that  of  Italy,  has 
been  cited  as  proof  of  their  inferiority  as  a  race  of  men  ; 
but  it  is  enough  to  say  in  reply,  that  these  Goths,  educa- 
ting themselves  mainly  by  the  ideas  of  the  True  and  the 
Good,  have  given  origin  to  all  the  literatures,  philosophies, 
and  systems  of  government  and  religion,  that  constitute 
the  crowning  glory  of  the  modern  world.  The  Italian 
intellect  was  enfeebled  and  exhausted  by  that  unnatural 
birth  of  Beauty  upon  Beauty.  Ever  since  the  fourteenth 
century,  it  has  been  wandering  about  in  that  world  of 
fine  forms,  like  Spenser's  knight  in  the  Bower  of  Bliss, 
until  all  power  of  intellect  is  gone. 

Every  truly  great  and  grand  character,  be  it  individual 
or  national,  is  more  or  less  a  severe  one ;  a  character 
which,  comparatively,  is  more  intellectual  and  moral, 
than  aesthetic*  This  position  merits  a  moment's  examin- 


*  According  to  the  etymology  of  the  old  Grammarians,  favored  by  Doe- 
derlein,  the  severe  is  the  intensely  true.  Doederlein  i.  76,  prajferendum  cen- 
set  vett.  Gramm.  sententiam  qua  severus  cognationem  habeat  cum  verus 
*  *  *  ita  ut  se,  ex  more  Gr.  a  priv.,  intensivam  vim  contineat. 
—  FacciolatPs  Lexicon  in  loc. 


AND    ITS    RELATIOxN    TO    CULTURE.  71 

ation.  And  in  the  first  place,  look  into  political  history 
and  see  what  traits  lie  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  best 
periods  in  national  development.  Out  of  what  type  of 
'mind  and  style  of  life  has  the  venerable,  the  heroic^  age 
always  sprmig  ?  Are  men  enervate  or  are  they  austere, 
are  they  aesthetic  or  are  they  intellectual  and  moral 
in  culture,  during  that  period  when  the  national  virtue 
is  formed  and  the  historic  renown  of  the  people  is 
acquired  ? 

The  heroic  age  of  Greece,  as  it  comes  down  to  us  in 
the  Homeric  poems,  was  a  period  of  simplicity  and  strict- 
ness. The  Greeks  of  that  early  time  were  intellectual 
men,  moral  men,  compared  with  the  Greeks  of  the  days 
of  Alcibiades.  Turn  to  the  pages  of  Athenaeus,  and  get 
a  view  of  the  in-door  life  and  every-day  character  of  a 
still  later  period  in  Grecian  history,  and  then  turn  to  the 
corresponding  picture  of  the  heroic  period  contained  in 
the  Odyssey,  mark  the  difference  in  the  impression  made 
upon  you  by  each  representation,  and  know  from  your 
own  feelings,  that  all  that  is  strong,  and  heroic,  and 
simple,  and  grand,  in  national  character  springs  from  a 
severe  mind  and  a  predominantly  moral  culture,  and  all 
that  is  feeble,  and  supine,  and  inefficient,  and  despicable,  in 
national  character,  springs  from  a  luxurious  mind  and  a 
predominantly  aesthetic  culture. 

And  how  stands  the  case  with  Rome  ?  Which  is  the 
venerable  period  in  her  history  ?  Is  it  to  be  sought  for 
in  the  luxurious  and  (so  far  as  Rome  ever  had  it)  the 
aesthetic  civilization  of  the  empire,  or  in  the  intellectual 
and  moral  civilization  of  the  monarchy  and  republic  ? 
All  the  strength  and  grandeur  of  the  Roman  character 
and  of  the  Roman  nationality  lies  back  of  the  third  Punic 
war.  Nay,  if  Rome  had  been  conquered  by  Carthage, 
and  had  gone  out  of  political  existence,  its  real  glory,  its 


72        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

proper  historic  renown,  would  have  been  greater  than  it 
is.  If  in  the  idea  called  up  by  the  word  Rome,  there 
were  wanting,  there  could  be  eliminated,  the  physical 
corruption  and  the  luxurious  but  merely  outward  refine- 
ment of  the  empire,  and  there  were  left  only  the  severe 
virtue,  the  sublime  endurance,  and  the  moral  grandeur, 
of  the  monarchy  and  republic,  the  idea  would  be  more 
sublime  in  history  and  more  impressive  in  contemplation. 
And  whence  originated  that  Sabine  element,  that  tough 
CQre,  that  hard  kernel,  in  the  Roman  character,  that  lay 
at  the  centre  and  kept  Rome  up,  during  her  long  agony 
of  intestine  and  external  conflict?  It  had  its  origin 
among  the  mountains,  amid  the  great  features  of  nature, 
and  it  was  purified  by  the  privation  and  hardship  of  a 
severe  life  in  the  forests  of  central  Italy,  on  that  spine  of 
the  Ausonian  peninsula,  until  it  became  as  sound,  sweet, 
and  hard,  as  the  chestnuts  of  the  Appenines  upon  which 
it  was  fed.  Intellectual  and  moral  elements,  and  not  an 
aesthetic  element,  were  the  hardy  root  of  all  the  political 
power  and  prosperity  of  Rome. 

There  is  no  need,  even  if  there  were  time,  to  cite 
instances  corroborating  the  view  presented,  from  modern 
political  history.  The  Puritanism  of  Old  England  and 
of  New  England  will  readily  suggest  itself,  to  every  one, 
as  the  one  eminently  severe  national  character,  with 
which  the  power  and  glory  of  the  English  and  Anglo- 
American  races,  and  the  highest  hopes  of  the  modern 
world,  are  vitally  connected.  It  will  be  sufficient  to 
say,  that  the  more  profound  is  our  acquaintance  with 
political  history,  the  more  clearly  shall  we  see  that 
all  that  IS  powerful,  and  permanent,  and  impressive,  in 
the  nations,  nationalities,  and  governments  of  the 
world,  sj)rang  directly  or  indirectly  from  a  nature  in 
which  the  aesthetic  was  subordinate  to  the  intellectual 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  73 

and  moral,  and  for  which  the  True  and  the  Good  were 
more  supreme  ideas  than  the  Beautiful. 

Furthermore,    the    position   taken   holds    true   in    the 
sphere    of  literature    also.     The    great  works   in    every 
instance  are  the  productions  of  a  severe   strength;  of 
"  the  Herculeses  and  not  the   Adonises  of  literature,"  to 
use  a  phrase  of  Bacon.     When  the  aesthetical  prevails 
over  the  intellectual  and  moral,  the  prime  qualities,  the 
depth,  the  originality,  and  the  power,  die  out  of  letters, 
and  the  mediocrity  that  ensues  is  but  poorly  concealed 
by  the  elegance  and  polish  thrown  over  it.     Even  when 
there  is  much  genius  and  much  originality,  an  excess  of 
Art,  a  too  deep  suffusion  of  Beauty,  a  too  fine  flush  of 
color,  is  often  the  cause  of  a  radical  defect.     Suppose 
that  the  poetry  of  Spenser  had  more  of  that  passion  in  ii 
which  Milton  mentions  as  the  third  of  the  three  main 
qualities  of  poetry ;  suppose   (without  however  wishing 
to  deny  the  great  excellence  of  the  Fairy  Queen  in  regard 
to  intellectual  and  moral  elements)  that  the  proportion 
of  the  aesthetic  had  been  somewhat  less,  would  it  not 
have  been  more  powerful  and  higher  poetry  ?     Suppose 
that  the  mind  and  the  culture  of  Wieland  and  Goethe 
had  been  vastly  more  under  the  influence  of  Truth,  and 
vastly  less  under  that  of  Beauty  ;    that  the   substance 
instead  of  the  form,  had  been  the  mould  in  which  these 
men  were  moulded  and  fitted  as  intellectual  workmen  ; 
might  not  the  first  have  come  nearer  to  our  Spenser,  and 
might  not  the   latter  have  produced  some  works   that 
would  perhaps  begin  to  justify  his   ardent  but  ignorant 
admirers  in  placing  him  in  the   same  class  with   Shaks- 
peare  and  Milton  ;  a  position  to  which,  as  it  is,  he  has 
not  the  slightest  claim  ? 

As  a  crowning  and  conclusive  proof  of  the  correctness 
of  the  view  presented,  I  will  refer  you  to  only  one  mind. 

7 


74'        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL 


I  refer  you  to  John  Milton,  one  of  those  two  minds  which 
tower  high  above  all  others  in  the  sphere  of  modern  lite- 
rature. If  there  ever  was  a  man  in  whom  the  aesthetic 
was  in  complete  subjection  to  the  intellectual  and  moral, 
without  being  in  the  least  suppressed  or  mutilated  by 
them,  that  man  was  Milton.  If  there  ever  was  a  human 
intellect  so  entirely  master  of  itself,  of  such  a  severe  type, 
that  all  its  processes  seem  to  have  been  the  pure  issue  of 
discipline  and  law,  it  was  the  intellect  of  Milton.  In 
contemplating  the  grandeur  of  the  products  of  his  mind, 
we  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  his  mind  itself,  and  of  his 
intellectual  character.  If  we  rightly  consider  it,  the  dis- 
cipline to  which  he  subjected  himself,  and  the  austere 
style  of  intellect  and  of  Art  in  which  it  resulted,  are  as 
worthy  of  the  reverence  and  admiration  of  the  scholar  as 
the  Paradise  Lost.  We  have  unfortunately  no  minute 
and  detailed  account  of  his  every-day  hfe,  but  from  all 
that  we  do  know,  and  from  all  that  we  can  infer  from 
the  lofty,  colossal,  culture  and  character  in  which  he 
comes  down  to  us,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Milton  must 
have  subjected  his  intellect  to  a  restraint,  and  rigid  deal- 
ing with  its  luxurious  tendencies,  as  strict  as  that  to 
which  Simon  Stylites  or  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  subjected 
their  bodies.  We  can  trace  the  process,  the  defecating 
purifying  process,  that  went  on  in  his  intellect,  through 
his  entire  productions.  The  longer  he  lived  and  the 
more  he  composed,  the  severer  became  his  taste,  and  the 
more  grandly  and  serenely  beautiful  became  his  works. 
It  is  true  that  the  theory  of  Art,  and  of  culture,  opposed 
to  that  which  we  are  recommending,  may  complain  of 
the  occasional  absence  of  Beauty,  and  may  charge  as  a 
fault  an  undue  nakedness  and  austerity  of  form.  But 
one  thing  is  certain  and  must  be  granted  by  the  candid 
critic,  that  whenever  the  element  of  Beauty  is  found  in 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  73 

INIlllon,  it  is  found  in  absolute  purity.  That  severe 
refining  process,  that  test  of  light  and  of  fire,  to  which  all 
his  materials  were  subjected,  left  no  residuum  that  was 
not  perfectly  pure.  And  therefore  it  is,  that  throughout 
universal  literature,  a  more  absolute  Beauty  and  a  more 
delicate  aerial  grace,  are  not  to  be  found  than  appear  in 
the  Comus  and  the  fourth  book  of  Paradise  Lost. 

But  we  are  not  anxious  on  this  point  of  Beauty, 
especially  in  connection  with  the  name  of  Milton.  Sub- 
limity is  a  higher  quality,  and  so  are  Strength  and  Gran- 
deur ;  and  if  Beauty  does  not  come  in  the  train,  and  as 
the  mere  ornament,  of  these,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  seek 
it  by  itself  and  for  its  own  sake.  And  much  will  be 
gained  when  education,  and  culture,  and  authorship,  shall 
dare  to  take  this  high  stand  which  Milton  took ;  shall 
dare  to  pass  by  Beauty,  in  the  start,  and  to  aim  at  higher 
elements  and  severer  qualities,  in  the  train,  and  as  the 
ornament  of  which,  a  real  Beauty  and  an  absolute  Grace 
shall  follow  of  themselves. 

Returning  then  to  the  intellectual  character  of  Milton, 
let  me  advise  you  to  study  that  character  until  you  see 
that  the  strict,  and  philosophically  severe,  theory  of  the 
Beautiful  and  of  Art  lies  under  the  whole  of  it.  Milton 
had  no  affinities  for  excessive  sensuous  Beauty.  He  was 
no  voluptuary  in  any  sense.  So  far  as  the  sense  was 
concerned  he  was  abstemious  as  an  ascetic,  and  so  far  as 
the  soul  was  concerned  he  knew  no  such  thing  as  luxury. 
He  devoted  himself  to  poetry,  an  Art  which,  glorious  as 
it  is,  yet  has  tendencies  that  need  counteraction,  which 
tempts  to  Arcadian  and  indulgent  views  of  human  life 
and  human  character,  and  which,  as  fiterary  history 
shows,  has  too  often  been  the  medium  through  which 
dreamy  and  uncontrolled  natures  have  communicated 
themselves  to  the  world.     But  as  a  poet,  he  constructed 


76        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

with  all  the  severity  of  Science  and  all  the  purity  of 
Religion.  The  poetic  Art,  as  it  appears  in  Milton,  is 
spiritual  and  spiritualizing.* 

If  this  element  of  severity  is  entirely  wanting  in  a 
man  ;  if  he  is  entirely  destitute  of  austerity ;  if  his  nature 
is  wholly  and  merely  aesthetic,  constantly  melting  and 
dissolving  in  an  atmosphere  of  Beauty;  whatever  else 
may  be  attributed  to  him,  strength  and  grandeur  cannot 
be.  We  do  not  deny  that  there  is  a  sort  of  interest  in 
such  natures,  but  we  deny  that  it  is  of  the  highest  sort. 
If  a  man  is  born  with  a  beautiful  soul,  and  it  is  his  ten- 
dency (to  use  a  Shaksperean  phrase)  "  to  wallow  in  the 
lily  beds ; "  to  revel  in  luxurious  sensations,  be  they 
wakened  by  material  or  immaterial  Beauty ;  unless  he 
subject  his  mind  to  the  training  of  higher  ideas,  and  of  a 
higher  department  than  that  of  Fine  Art,  his  career  will 
end  in  the  total  enervation  of  his  being.  This  tendency 
ought  in  every  instance  to  be  disciplined.  The  individ- 
ual in  whom  it  exists,  ought  to  superinduce  upon  it  a 
strictness  and  austerity  that  will  check  its  luxuriance, 
and  bring  it  within  the  limits  of  a  severer  and  therefore 
purer  taste. 

The  least  injurious  and  safest  form  which  an  undue 
aesthetic  tendency  can  take  on,  is  a  quick  sense  for  the 
Beautiful  in  natm*e.  But  even  here,  an  unbalanced, 
uneducated,  tendency  is  enervating  That  dreamy  mood 
of  young  poets,  that  dissolving  of  the  soul  in  "  the  light 
of  setting  suns,"  must  be  educated  and  sobered  by  a 
severe  discipline  of  the  head  and  heart,  or  no  poetry  will 


*  We  may  say  of  Milton,  in  reference  to  the  severe  ideal  character  of  his 
Art,  as  Fuseli  has  said  of  the  same  feature  in  Michael  Angelo ;  "  he  is  the 
salt  of  Art."  He  saves  it  from  its  inherent  tendency  to  corruption,  by  a 
larger  infusion  of  intellectual  and  moral  elements,  than  exists  in  the  average 
productions  of  the  department. 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  77 

be  produced  that  will  go  down  through  all  ages.  It  is 
not  so  much  a  deep  tendency  as  a  transient  mood  of  the 
soul,  and  needs  the  infusion  of  intellectual  and  moral 
elements,  in  order  that  it  may  become  "  the  vision  and 
faculty  divine."  Turn  to  a  great  collection,  like  Chal- 
mers' British  Poets,  and  observe  how  large  a  portion  of 
this  mass  of  poetry  is  destitute  of  the  powder  of  produ- 
cing a  ;;er»iflw^«nmpression  upon  the  human  imagina- 
tion ;  how  little  out  of  this  great  bulk  is  selected  to  be 
read  by  the  successive  generations  of  English  students ; 
how  small  a  portion  of  it,  compared  with  the  whole 
amount,  is  profoundly  and  genuinely  poetic ;  and  at  the 
same  time  notice  how  very  much  of  it  w^as  evidently 
composed  under  the  inliuence  which  the  Beautiful  in 
nature  exerts  upon  an  undisciplined,  and  uneducated, 
aesthetic  sense,  and  you  will  have  the  strongest  possible 
proof  of  the  enervating,  enfeebling,  influence  of  this 
quality  w^hen  isolated  from  the  intellectual  and  moral.  — 
The  mind  needed  a  severer  cvilture,  and  a  discipline 
wrought  out  for  it  by  higher  ideas,  that  could  use  and 
elaborate  these  obscure  feelings,  these  dim  dreams,  this 
blind  sense,  for  the  purposes  of  a  higher  and  more  genuine 
Art.  It  is  often  said,  we  know,  that  science  is  the  death 
of  poetry ;  that  the  study  of  the  Kantean  philosophy 
injured  the  poetry  of  Schiller,  and  the  study  of  all  philo- 
sophies the  poetry  of  Coleridge  ;  that  the  charm,  and 
the  glow,  and  the  flush,  and  the  fulness,  and  the  luxuri- 
ance, and  the  gorgeousness,  were  all  destroyed  by  the 
acid  and  blight  of  science.  But  we  do  not  believe  this. 
These  poets  might  have  written  more  had  their  imagina- 
tion not  been  passed  through  these  severe  processes  of 
the  intellect,  they  might  have  been  more  fluent,  but  that 
they  would  have  \\Titten  more  that  will  have  a  lasting 
poetic  interest  remains  to  be  seen.     Their  Art  is  all  the 

7* 


78        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

higher,  for  the  check  and  restraint  imposed  upon  their 
poetic  nature.  And  who  will  not  say,  to  take  a  plain 
example,  that  if  the  young  soul  of  Keats  could  have  been 
corded  with  a  stronger  muscle,  and  overshaded  with  a 
severer  tone  of  feeling  and  sentiment ;  that  if  a  more 
masculine  culture  could  have  been  married  with  that 
genuinely  feminine  soul ;  a  higher  poetry  and  a  still 
purer  Beauty  would  have  been  the  offspring  of  this 
hymeneal  union  ?  * 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  more  positive  side  of  the 
subject.  Thus  far  we  have  spoken  in  a  negative  way  of 
what  the  Beautiful  is  not,  and  of  what  it  cannot  do  for 
the  human  soul  and  human  culture.  We  now  affirm 
that  only  on  the  theory  which  subordinates  Beauty  to 
Truth  can  the  highest  style  of  Beauty  itself  be  originated, 
and  that  only  when  the  department  of  Aesthetics  is  sub- 
ordinate to  those  of  Philosophy  and  Religion,  does  a 
genuinely  beautiful  culture,  either  individual  or  national, 
spring  into  existence.  Without  this  check  and  subor- 
dination, the  aesthetic  quality  will  destroy  itself  by 
becoming  excessive.  The  more  staple  elements  that 
must  enter  into  and  substantiate  it,  will  all  evaporate ; 
as  if  the  warm  organic  flesh  should  all  turn  into  the  fine 
flush  of  the  complexion ;  as  if  the  air  and  the  light  and 
the  foliage  and  the  waters,  all  the  material^  all  the  solidity^ 
of  a  beautiful  landscape,  should  vanish  away  into  mere 
crimson  and  vermilion.  For,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  true  Beauty  in  a  work  of  Art,  is  conditioned 
upon  the  presence  in  it  of  some  intelligible  idea.  There 
must  be  some  truth  and  some  expression,  in  order  to  the 
existence  of  the  pure  quality  itself.  Beauty  cannot  stand 
alone.     There  must  be  a  meaning  underneath  of  which 

*  If  the  school   of  Tennyson   needs  any  one  thing,  it  is  an  austerer 
culture. 


AND    ITS    RELATION    TO    CULTURE.  79 

it  is  the  clothing.  There  must  be  an  intellectual  concep- 
tion within  the  product,  to  which  it  can  cling  for  sup- 
port, and  from  which  it  derives  all  its  growing,  lasting, 
highest,  charm  for  a  cultivated  taste.  Hence  it  is,  that 
as  we  go  up  the  scale.  Beauty  actually  becomes  more 
ideal,  more  and  more  intellectual  and  moral.  It  under- 
goes a  refining  process,  as  it  rises  in  grade,  whereby  the 
sensuous  element,  so  predominant  in  the  lower  products 
of  Art,  is  volatilized.  There  is  more  appeal  to  the  soul 
and  less  to  the  sense,  as  we  go  up  from  the  more  florid 
and  showy  schools  of  painting,  e.  g.,  to  the  more  severe 
and  spiritual.  The  same  is  true  of  the  Beautiful  in  na- 
ture. As  we  ascend  from  the  inferior  to  the  higher  veg- 
etation, we  find  not  only  a  more  delicate  organization, 
but  a  more  delicate  Beauty.  The  gaudy  and  coarse  col- 
oring gives  place  to  more  exquisite  hues,  in  proportion 
as  mind ;  in  proportion  as  the  presiding  intelligence  of  the 
Creator ;  comes  more  palpably  into  view.  In  the  words 
of  Milton,  all  things  are 

*        *        more  refined,  more  spirituous,  and  pure, 
As  nearer  to  Him  placed,  or  nearer  tending, 
Till  body  up  to  spirit  work. 

******         So  from  the  root 
Springs  lighter  the  green  stalk  ;  from  thence  the  leaves 
More  aery  ;  last  the  bright  consummate  flower 
Spirits  odorous  breathes  ;  flowers  and  their  fruit, 
Man's  nourishment,  by  gradual  scale  sublimed 
To  vital  spirits  aspire,  to  animal, 
To  intellectual.* 

And  all  things  grow  more  highly  beautiful  as  we  keep 
pace  with  this  upward  step  in  nature,  until  we  pass  over 
into    the    distinctively    spiritual    sphere,    and   reach   the 

*  Par.  Lost.  v.  475. 


80        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

crown  and  completion  of  all  Beauty  ;  the  beauty  of  char- 
acter, or  the  "  beauty  of  holiness."  Observe  that  all 
along  this  limitless  line  we  find  a  growing  severity  ;  that 
is,  an  increase  of  the  intellectual  or  moral  element.  Sen- 
suous beauty  is  displaced,  or  rather  absorbed  and  trans- 
figured, by  intellectual  beauty  ;  the  ideas  of  the  True  and 
the  Good  more  and  more  assert  their  supremacy,  by  em- 
ploying the  Beautiful  as  the  mere  medium  through  which 
they  become  visible,  even  as  light,  after  traversing  the 
illimitable  fields  of  ether  without  either  color  or  form,  on 
coming  into  an  atmosphere,  into  a  medium,  thickens  in- 
to a  solid  blue  vault. 

A  reference  to  the  actual  history  of  Fine  Art  will  also 
verify  the  position  here  taken.  As  matter  of  fact,  we 
find  this  spiritualizing  process  ;  this  advance  of  the  sub- 
stance and  this  retreat  of  the  form  ;  going  on  in  every 
school  of  Art  that  grew  more  purely  and  highly  beautiful, 
and  in  the  soul  of  every  artist  who  went  up  the  scale  of 
artists.  That  school  which  did  not  grow  more  ideal, 
invariably  grew  more  sensuous  and  less  beautiful,  and 
that  artist  who  did  not  by  study  and  discipline  become 
more  severe  and  studied  in  style,  invariably  sunk  down 
into  the  lower  grade.  All  the  works  of  Art  that  go  down 
through  succeeding  ages  with  an  ever-growing  beauty  as 
well  as  an  ever-towering  sublimity ;  all  the  great  models 
and  master-pieces ;  owe  their  origin  to  a  most  severe 
taste  and  a  most  spiritual  idea.  The  study  of  the  great 
models  in  every  department  of  Art,  be  it  painting,  or 
sculpture,  or  poetry,  will  convince  any  one  that  the  im- 
agination, the  artist's  faculty,  when  originating  its  great- 
est works  imposes  restraints  upon  itself;  in  reality  is 
severe  with  itself  If  the  artist  allows  his  imagination  to 
revel  amid  all  the  possible  forms  that  will  throng,  and 
press,  through  this  wonderfully  luxuriant  and  productive 


A\U  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  81 

power;  if  he  sufters  it  to  waste  its  energy  in  an  idle  play 
with  its  thick-coming  fancies  ;  if,  in  short,  he  does  not 
preserve  it  a  rational  imagination,  and  regulate  it  by  the 
deeper  element  and  severer  principle  inherent  in  it,  his 
productions  will  necessarily  be  in  the  lower  style.  It 
is  for  this  reason  that  the  artist  betakes  himself  to  study. 
He  would  break  up  this  revelry  of  a  lawless,  uneducated, 
imagination.  He  would  set  limits  to  a  vague  and  aim- 
less energy.  He  woLild  wield  a  productive  talent  that 
lies  lower  down ;  that  works  more  calmly  and  grandly ; 
more  according  to  reason  and  a  profounder  Art.  Tlie 
educating  process,  in  the  case  of  the  artist,  is  intended  to 
repress  a  cloying  luxm'iance  and  to  superinduce  a  beau- 
tiful austerity;  to  substitute  an  ideal  for  a  material  beau- 
ty. Hence  we  see  that  the  artist,  as  he  grows  in  power 
and  high  excellence,  grows  in  strictness  of  theory  and 
severity  of  taste.  His  products  are  marked  by  a  graver 
beauty,  and  the  presence  of  a  purer  ideal,  as  he  goes  up 
the  scale  of  artists. 

As  an  example,  we  may  cite  the  instance  of  Michael 
Angelo.  For  grandeur,  sublimity,  and  power  of  perma- 
nent impression,  he  confessedly  stands  at  the  head  of  his 
Art,  and  although  in  regard  to  beauty,  Raphael  may  dis- 
pute the  palm  with  him,  and  by  some  may  be  thought  his 
superior,  yet  no  one  can  deny  that  (as  in  the  case  of  Mil- 
ton) whenever  this  element  does  appear  in  "  the  mighty 
Tuscan,"  it  is  of  the  most  absolute  and  perfect  species.* 

*  Wiiickelmann.  looking  from  his  point  of  view,  wliicli  was  that  of  classic 
Art  merely,  has  expressed  a  disparaging  opinion  in  regard  to  Angelo,  so  far 
as  the  Beautiful  is  concerned,  and  seems  to  have  laid  the  found;ition  for  the 
superficial  and  too  general, opinion,  that  in  respect  to  this  quality  he  was  hy 
nature  greatly  inferior  to  Raphael.  But  the  al»Ie  editors  of  his  works  justly 
call  attention  to  the  fact,  that  Winckclmann  is  wrong  in  Judging  of  modern 
Art  in  this  servile  way,  and  allude  to  a  scarce  and  hut  little  known  poem 
of  Angelo's,  in  which  a  most  delicate  and  feminine  appreciation  of  beaury 


82        THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

Yet  all  his  productions  are  characterized  by  an  austere 
manner.  The  form  is  always  subservient,  and  perhaps 
sometimes  somewhat  sacrificed,  to  the  idea.  And,  at 
any  rate,  the  man  himself,  compared  with  the  Italian 
artists  generally,  compared  with  Raphael  especially,  was 
a  spiritual  man  both  in  culture  and  character.  We  con- 
fess that  we  look  with  a  veneration  bordering  upon  awe 
upon  that  grand  nature,  severe,  abstract,  and  ideal,  in  an 
age  that  was  totally  sensuous  in  head  and  heart,  and  in 
a  profession  whose  most  seductive  and  dangerous  ten- 
dency is  to  soften  and  enervate.  By  the  force  of  a  strong 
heroic  character,  as  well  as  a  hard  and  persevering  study 
both  of  Art  and  of  Nature,  he  counteracted  that  ten- 
dency to  a  sensuous  and  a  sensualizing  beauty,  which 
we  have  noticed  as  the  bane  of  Art,  and  in  that  nerve- 
less age,  so  destitute  of  lofty  virtue  and  stern  heroism, 
stands  out  like  the  Memnon's  head  on  the  dead  level  of 


is  -apparent.  "  In  this  poem,"  say  they,  "  the  great  Micliael  Angelo  reveals 
himself  in  a  manner  that  appears  striking  and  wonderful  to  such  as  have 
known  him  only  from  his  paintings  and  statues.  Heartfelt  admiration  for 
beauty,  love  too  deep  to  be  disclosed  to  its  object,  a  gentle  touching  sadness 
wakened  by  the  sense  of  an  existence  that  cannot  satisfy  an  infinite  affec- 
tion, and  a  melancholy  longing,  growing  out  of  this,  for  dissolution  and 
freedom  from  the  howds  of  earth,  form  the  ground-tone  of  this  warmly-glow- 
ing poem,  in  which  Angelo  gives  an  expression  of  the  feminine  element  in 
his  great  and  mighty  nature,  tliat  is  all  the  more  lovely  from  tlie  fact  that 
the  masculine  principle  is  the  prevailing  and  predominant  one  in  his  works 
Qf  Art." — Winckelmann's  Werke  von  Meyer  unci  Schulze,  iv.  43,  and  Anmerk. 
p.  262. 

Consonant  with  this  are  the  following  remarks  of  Lanzi.  "  We  may  here 
observe  that  when  Michael  Angelo  was  so  inclined,  he  could  obtain  distinc- 
tion for  those  endowments  in  which  others  excelled.  It  is  a  vulgar  error  to 
suppose  that  he  had  no  idea  of  grace  and  beauty  ;  the  Eve  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel  turns  to  thank  her  Maker,  on  her  creation,  with  an  attitude  so  fine 
and  lovely,  that  it  would  do  honor  to  Raphael " 

Histonj  ofPaintimj,  {Roscoe's  Trans.)  I  176. 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  83 

the  Nile,  grand  and   lonely,  yet  with   "  elysian  beauty 
and  melancholy  grace." 

And,  in  this  connection,  I  cannot  refrain  from  calling 
your  attention  to  that  greatest  of  American  artists,  who 
is  at  once  a  proof  and  illustration  of  the  truth  of  the  gen- 
eral theory  advanced.  No  man  will  suspect  Allston  of 
an  underestimate  of  the  Beautiful.  In  the  whole  cata- 
logue of  ancient  and  modern  artists,  there  is  not  to  be 
found  a  single  one  in  whose  mind  this  element  existed 
in  more  unmLxed  and  absolute  purity  :  —  beauty 


*        *        *        chaste  as  the  icicle 
That's  curded  by  the  frost  from  purest  snow, 
And  hangs  on  Dian's  temple. 


But  this  spirituality  was  the  fruit  not  only  of  a  pure 
nature,  but  of  a  high  theory.  He  recognized  and  felt  the 
supremacy  of  the  True  and  the  Good,  oyer  the  Beautiful. 
The  reader  of  his  lectures  on  Art,  is  struck  with  the  re- 
ligious carefulness  with  which  he  insists  upon  the  supe- 
rior claims  of  Truth  over  those  of  mere  Art,  and  the 
earnestness  with  which  he  seeks  to  elevate  and  spiritual- 
ize the  profession  which  he  honored  and  loved,  by  making 
it  the  organ  and  proclamation  of  Truth  and  Holiness. 
By  this,  we  think  the  fact  can  be  explained  that  he  pro- 
duced so  little,  compared  with  the  exhaustless  fertility  of 
the  Italian  artists.  His  ideal  was  so  high ;  the  Beautiful 
was  so  spirituaUy  beautiful  for  him ;  that  color  and  form 
failed  to  embody  his  conceptions.  His  uniform  refusal 
to  attempt  the  representation  of  Christ ;  a  far  too  com- 
mon attempt  in  Italian  Art ;  undoubtedly  rested  upon 
this  fact.  It  was  not  because  his  intensely  spiritual 
mind  had  a  less  adequate  idea  of  the  Divine-Man,  tiian 
that  which  floated  before  the  Catholic  imagination,  but 


84         THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

because  there  beamed  upon  his  ethereal  vision,  a  form 
of  such  high  and  awful  beauty  as  could  not  be  put  upon 
a  material  canvas.  It  was  because  he  saw  so  much 
that  he  did  so  little. 

But,  Gentlemen,  there  is  a  still  more  practical  and  im- 
portant side  to  this  whole  subject.  The  department  of 
Art  sustains  a  relation  to  the  growth  and  development 
of  the  human  mind,  and  human  society.  Like  all  other 
departments  of  human  effort,  it  should  therefore  be  sub- 
servient to  the  great  moral  end  of  human  existence,  and 
if  there  were  no  other  alternative,  it  would  be  better  that 
the  aesthetic  nature,  and  the  whole  department  of  Art, 
and  the  whole  wide  realm  of  the  Beautiful,  should  be 
afmihilated,  than  that  they  should  continue  to  exist  at 
the  expense  of  the  intellectual  and  moral,  of  the  True 
and  the  Good.  We  are  not  at  all  driven  to  the  alterna- 
tive, if  there  be  truth  in  the  general  theory  that  has  been 
presented,  but  if  we  were,  we  acknowledge  boldly  that  we 
would  side  with  the  Puritan  iconoclast  and  dash  into 
atoms  the  Apollo  Belvidere  itself.  Rather  than  that  the 
department  of  Art  should  annihilate  Philosophy  and  Re- 
ligion ;  rather  than  that  an  enervate  beauty  should  eat 
out  manly  strength  and  severe  virtue  from  character ; 
rather  than  that  a  sensualizing  process  should  be  intro- 
duced into  the  very  heart  of  society,  though  it  were  as 
beautiful  as  an  opium  dream ;  we  would  see  the  element 
struck  out  of  existence,  and  man  and  the  universe  be  left 
as  bald  and  bare  as  granite.  We  honor  therefore,  that 
trait  in  our  ancestors,  (so  often  charged  upon  them  as  a 
radical  defect  in  nature,  and  so  often  tacitly  admitted  as 
such  even  by  some  of  their  descendants),  which  made 
them  afraid  of  Fine  Art ;  afraid  of  music  and  painting 
and  sculpture  and  poetry.  They  dreaded  the  form,  but 
had  no  dread  of  the  substance,  and  therefore  were  the  most 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  85 

philosojihic  of  men.  They  dreaded  the  material,  but  had 
no  dread  of  the  ideal,  and  therefore"  were  the  most  intel- 
lectual of  men.  They  dreaded  the  sensuous,  but  had  no 
dread  of  the  spiritual,  and  therefore  were  the  m.ost  reli- 
gious of  men.  The  Puritan  nature  owed  but  little, 
comp'U'atively  speaking,  to  aesthetic  culture.  It  was  not 
drawn  upon  and  drawn  out,  as  some  natures  have  been, 
by  Literature  and  Art,  for  in  the  plan  of  Providence  its 
mission  was  active  rather  than  contemplative ;  but  we 
do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  the  contents  and  genius  were 
there,  and  that  even  on  the  side  of  the  imagination,  that 
nature,  had  it  been  unfolded  in  this  direction,  would 
have  left  a  school  and  a  style  of  Art,  using  the  term  in 
its  widest  acceptation,  second  to  none.  And  as  it  is,  we 
see  its  legitimate  tendency  and  influence  in  the  poetry 
of  INIilton.  The  Miltonic  style  of  Art  is  essentially  the 
Puritan  Art ;  beautiful  only  as  it  is  severe  and  grand ;  the 
Beautiful  superinduced  upon  the  True  and  the  Holy. 

Gentlemen  :  — 

In  the  opening  of  my  discourse,  I  alluded  to  the  fact, 
that  the  style  of  civilization  and  culture  peculiar  to  the 
individual  or  the  nation,  is  determined  by  the  theory, 
which  is  consciously  or  unconsciously  assumed,  of  the 
nature  and  relative  position  of  the  Beautiful:  and  at  the 
close  of  it,  I  would  call  your  attention  to  it  again.  My 
aim  is  not  iconoclastic.  My  aim,  in  all  that  I  have  said, 
has  been,  not  to  destroy  or  in  the  least  to  disparage  the 
department  of  Aesthetics,  but  to  establish  and  recommend 
a  high  and  strict  and  philosophic  theory  of  it,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  putting  it  in  its  right  place  in  the  encyclopaedia, 
and  thus  of  promoting  its  own  true  growth,  and  what  is 
of  still  more  importance,  the  growth  of  the  human  mind. 
Called  upon  to  address  scholars,  I  desire  to  do  something 

8 


86       THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL, 

that  will  contribute  io  high-toned  culture,  high-toned 
thinking,  and  high-toned  character.  And  I  know  of  no 
better  way,  on  such  an  occasion  as  the  present,  than  to 
bring  out  distinctly  before  the  youthful  and  recipient 
student,  a  philosophic,  severe,  and  lofty,  theory  in  regard 
to  that  whole  department  of  Art,  so  fascinating  to  the 
young  mind  and  so  liable  to  be  employed  to  excess  by  it. 
Depend  upon  it.  Gentlemen,  the  older  you  grow  and  the 
riper  scholars  you  become,  the  more  severe  will  be  your 
tastes  and  the  more  austere  will  be  your  literary  sympa- 
thies. You  will  come  to  see  more  and  more  clearly,  that 
neither  music,  nor  painting,  nor  sculpture,  nor  architecture, 
nor  poetry,  can  properly  be  made  the  main  instrument 
of  human  development ;  that  the  human  intellect  and 
heart  demand  ultimately  a  "  manlier  diet ; "  that  you 
must  become  powerful  minds  and  powerful  men,  mainly 
through  the  culture  that  comes  from  Science  and  Reli- 
gion. You  will  never,  indeed,  lose  your  relish  for  the 
Beautiful ;  on  the  contrary,  you  will  have  a  keener  and  a 
nicer  sense  for  it,  and  for  all  that  is  based  upon  it ;  but 
you  will  find  a  declining  interest  in  its  lower  forms.  — 
Schools  of  Poetry  and  of  Art  that  once  pleased  you,  will 
become  insipid,  and  perhaps  offensive,  to  your  severer 
taste,  your  more  purged  eye,  your  more  rational  imagina- 
tion. There  will  be  fewer  and  fewer  works  in  the  aes- 
thetic sphere  that  will  throw  a  spell  and  work  a  charm, 
while  the  deep  and  central  truths  of  Philosophy  and 
Religion  will  draw,  ever  draw,  your  whole  being  to  them- 
selves, as  the  moon  draws  the  sea. 

And  in  this  way,  you  will  be  fitted  to  do  the  proper 
work  of  educated  men  in  the  midst  of  society.  I  have 
alluded  to  the  downward  movement,  the  uniform  decay, 
of  the  ancient  civilizations.  History  teaches  one  plain 
and  mournful  lesson ;  that  man  caimot  safely  be  left  to 


AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  CULTURE.  87 

his  luxurious  tendencies,  be  they  of  the  sense  or  the  soul. 
There  must  be  austerity  somewhere.  There  must  be  a 
strong  h(^cicl  and  a  sound  heart  somewhere.  And  where 
ought  we  to  look  for  these  but  in  the  educated  class  ?  In 
whom,  if  not  in  these,  ought  we  to  find  that  theory  of 
education,  that  style  of  culture,  and  that  tone  of  intellect, 
which  will  right  up  society  wiien  it  is  sinking  down  into 
luxury,  or  hold  it  where  it  is  if  it  is  already  upright  and 
austere  ?  Educated  men,  amid  the  currents  and  in  the 
general  drift  of  society,  ought  to  discharge  the  function 
of  a  warp  and  anchor.  They,  of  all  men,  ought  to  be 
characterized  by  strength.  And  especially  do  our  own 
age  and  country  need  this  style  of  culture.  Exposed  as 
the  national  mind  is  to  a  luxurious  civilization ;  as 
imminently  exposed  as  Nineveh  or  Rome  ever  were ;  the 
Beautiful  is  by  no  means  the  main  idea  by  which  it 
should  be  educated  and  moulded.  As  in  the  Prome- 
theus, none  but  the  demi-gods  Strength  and  Force  can 
chain  the  Titan.  Our  task,  gentlemen,  as  men  of  cul- 
ture, and  as  men  who  are  to  determine  the  prevailing 
type  of  culture,  is  both  in  theory  and  practice  to  subject 
the  Form  to  the  Substance  ;  to  bring  the  Beautiful  under 
the  problem  of  the  True  and  the  Good.  Our  task,  as 
descendants  of  an  austere  ancestry,  as  partakers  in  a 
severe  nationality,  is  to  retain  the  strict,  heroic,  intellec- 
tual, and  religious,  spirit  of  the  Puritan  and  the  Pilgrim, 
in  these  forms  of  an  advancing  civilization.  In  order  to 
this  ;  in  order  that  the  sensuously  and  luxuriously  Beauti- 
ful may  not  be  too  much  for  us  ;  strength  and  reserve  are 
needed  in  the  cultivated  classes.  They  must  be  reticent 
and,  like  the  sculptor,  chisel  and  re-chisel,  until  they  cut 
off  and  cut  down  to  a  simple  and  severe  beauty,  in  Art 
and  in  Literature,  in  Religion  and  in  Life. 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS,  AND  IMPORTANCE,  OF 
A  NATURAL  RHETORIC. 


AN  INAUGURAL  DISCOURSE  DELIVERED  IN  AUBURN  THEOLOGICAL 
SEMINARY,  JUNE  16,  1852. 


There  is  no  greater  or  more  striking  contrast,  than 
exists  between  a  thing  that  is  alive,  and  a  thing  that  is 
dead  ;  between  a  product  of  natare,  and  a  product  of 
mechanism ;  between  a  thing  w^hich  has  a  principle 
within  it,  and  a  "  thing  of  shreds  and  patches."  The 
human  mind  notices  this  contrast  between  the  various 
object?,  that  come  before  it,  the  quicker  and  the  more 
sharply,  because  it  is  itself  a  living  thing,  and  because 
its  own  operations  are  unifying,  organizing,  and  vivify- 
ing, in  their  nature.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  mech- 
anism of  the  human  understanding,  and  of  a  mechaniz- 
ing process  as  going  on  within  it.  But  this  language  is 
metaphorical,  and  employed  to  denote  the  uniformity 
and  certainty  of  intellectual  processes,  rather  than  their 
real  nature.  Man  is  a  living  soul,  and  there  is  no  action 
anywhere,  or  in  anything,  that  is  more  truly  and  purely 
vital,  more  entirely  diverse  from  and  hostile  to  the 
mechanical  and  the  dead,  than  the  genuine  action  of  the 
human  mind.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  mind  notices  this 
contrary  quality  and  characteristic  in  an  object  with  the 
(88) 


IMPORTANCE  OF  A  NATURAL  RHETORIC.         89 

rapidity  of  instinct,  and  starts  back  from  it  with  a  sort 
of  organic  recoil.  Life  detects  death,  and  shrinks  from 
death,  instantaneously.  Natm-e  abhors  art  and  artifice, 
as  decidedly  as,  according  to  the  old  philosophy,  it 
abhors  a  vacuum. 

This  distinction  between  the  natural  and  the  artificial, 
furnishes  a  clue  to  the  difference  which  runs  through  all 
the  productions  of  man,  and  reveals  the  secret  of  their 
excellence  or  their  defects.  How  often  and  how  sponta- 
neously do  we  sum  up  our  whole  admiration  of  a  work 
by  saying,  "  it  is  natural,"  and  our  whole  dislike  by  the 
words,  "  it  Js  artificial  ?  "  The  naturalness  and  life-like- 
ness in  the  one  case,  are  the  spring  of  all  that  has  pleased 
us  ;  the  formality  and  artifice  in  the  other,  are  the  source 
of  all  that  lias  repelled  or  disgusted  us.  Even  when  we 
go  no  further  in  our  criticism,  this  general  statement  of 
conformity  or  oppugnancy  to  nature,  seems  to  be  a  suffi- 
cient criticism.  And  with  good  reason.  For,  if  a  pro- 
duction has  nature,  has  life  in  it,  it  has  real  and  perma- 
nent excellence.  It  has  the  germ  and  root  of  all 
excellences.  And  if  it  has  not  nature  or  life  in  it ;  if  it 
is  a  mechanical,  or  an  artificial,  or  a  formal  thing;  it  has 
the  elements  of  all  defects  and  all  faults  in  it. 

It  will  be  noticed  here,  that  we  have  used  the  term  Art 
in  its  more  common  and  bad  sense,  of  contrariety  to 
Nature,  and  not  in  that  technical  and  best  signification 
of  the  word,  which  implies  the  oneness  and  unison  of  the 
two.  For,  true  Art,  Fine  Art,  has  Nature  in  it,  and  the 
genuine  artist,  be  he  painter,  or  poet,  or  orator,  is  one 
who  paints,  or  sings,  or  speaks,  with  a  natm-al  freedom 
and  freshness.  Hence  it  is,  that  we  are  impressed  by  the 
great  productions  of  Fine  Art,  in  the  same  way  that  we 
are  by  the  works,  of  Nature.  A  painting,  warm  from  the 
easel  of  Claude  Lorraine,  appeals  to  what  is  alive  in  us, 

8* 


90  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

in  the  same  genial  way  that  a  vernal  landscape  does.  — 
An  oration  from  a  clear  brain,  a  beating  heart,  and  a 
glowing  lip,  produces  effects  analogous  to  those  of  light, 
and  fire,  and  the  electric  currents.  In  this  way,  a  mys- 
terious union  is  found  to  exist  between  outward  nature, 
and  that  inward  nature  in  the  soul  of  man  which  we  call 
genius  ;  and  in  this  way  we  see  that  there  is  no  essential 
difference  between  Nature  and  Art* 

But  in  the  other  and  more  common  sense  of  the  term 
Art ;  and  the  sense  in  which  we  shall  employ  it  at  this 
time ;  there  is  no  such  mystic  union  and  unison  between 
it  and  Nature.  It  is  its  very  contrary ;  so  mych  so,  that 
the  one  kills  and  expels  the  other ;  so  much  so,  that,  as 
we  have  said,  the  one  affords  a  universal  test  of  the  fault- 
iness,  and  the  other  of  the  excellence,  of  the  productions 
of  the  human  mind,  in  all  departments  of  effort.  For 
the  Natural  is  the  true,  while  the  Artificial  is  the  false. 
Truth  is  the  inmost  essence  of  that  principle  by  which  a 
production  of  the  human  mind  is  so  organized  and  vital- 
ized, as  to  make  a  fresh  and  powerful  impression. — 
Whenever  in  any  department  of  effort,  the  human  mind 
has  reached  verity,  and  is  able  to  give  a  simple  and  sin- 
cere expression  to  it,  we  find  the  product  full  of  nature, 
full  of  life,  full  of  freshness,  full  of  impression.     This, 


*  Nature's  own  work  it  seemed,  (nature  taught  art.) 

Paradise  Regained,  ii.  295. 

All  nature  is  but  art  unknown  to  thee.  Pope. 

Nature  is  the  art  of  God.  Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

There  is  a  nature  in  all  artificial  things,  and  again,  an  artifice  in  all  com- 
pounded natural  things.  Cudworth. 

The  art  of  seeing  nature  is  in  reality  the  great  object  of  the  studies  of  the 
artist.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

Art  may,  in  truth,  be  called  the  human  ivorld.  Allston. 

For  a  philosophic  statement  of  this  theory  see  Kant's  Urtheilskraft  §§  45, 
46,  and  Schelling's  discourse  upon  the  relation  of  Art  to  Nature. 


IMPORTANCE    OF    A    NATURAL    RHETORIC.  91 

and  ibis  nltiniaicly,  is  the  })Iaiii  secret  of  the  clianri  in 
every  work  of  genius  and  of  power.  In  every  instance, 
the  influence  wliich  sways  the  observer,  or  the  hearer,  or 
the  reader,  is  the  inihience  of  the  veritable  reality,  of  the 
real  and  the  simple  truth.  The  Artificial,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  the  false.  Examine  any  formal  production  what- 
ever, and  we  shall  be  brought  back  in  the  end  to  a 
pretence,  to  a  falsehood.  The  mind  of  the  author  is  not 
filled  with  the  truth,  and  yet  he  pretends  to  an  utterance 
of  the  truth.  Its  working  is  not  genial  and  spontaneous 
like  that  of  nature,  and  yet  he  must  give  out  that  it  is. 
From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  process,  therefore, 
an  artificial  production  is  essentially  untrue,  unreal,  and 
hence  unnatural. 

We  have  thus  briefly  directed  attention  to  this  very 
common  distinction  between  the  Natural  and  the  Artifi- 
cial, and  to  the  ground  of  it,  for  the  purpose  of  introdu- 
cing the  general  topic  upon  which  we  propose  to  speak 
on  this  occasion :  which  is. 

The  Qiaracteristics  and  importance  of  a  Natural  Rhe- 
toric^ with  special  reference  to  the  icork  of  the  Preacher. 

There  is  no  branch  of  knowledge  so  liable  to  an  artifi- 
cial method,  as  that  of  Rhetoric.  Strictly  defined,  it  is, 
indeed,  as  Milton  calls  it,  an  instrumental  art,  and  hence, 
from  its  very  nature,  its  appro]:)riate  subject-matter  is  the 
form  of  a  discourse.  While  Philosophy,  and  History, 
and  Theology,  are  properly  occupied  with  the  substance 
of  human  composition ;  with  truth  itself  and  thought 
itself;  to  Rhetoric  is  left  the  humbler  task  of  putting  this 
material  into  a  form  suited  to  it.  Hence,  it  is  evident, 
that  by  the  very  nature  and  definition  of  Rhetoric,  this 
department  of  knowledge  and  of  discipline  i.^  liable  to 
formalism  and  artificiality.     While  the  piind  is  carried 


92  THE    CHARACTERISTICS     AND 

by  the  solid,  material,  branches  of  education,  further  and 
further  into  the  very  substance  of  truth  itself;  while  His- 
tory, and  Philosophy,  and  Theology,  by  their  very  struc- 
ture and  contents,  tend  to  deepen  and  strengthen  the 
mental  processes  ;  Rhetoric,  in  common  with  the  whole 
department  of  Fine  Art,  seems  to  induce  superficiality 
and  formality.  And  when  a  bad  tendency  seems  to 
receive  aid  from  a  legitimate  department  of  human 
knowledge,  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  should  gain  ground 
until  it  convert  the  whole  department  into  its  own  nature. 
Hence,  as  matter  of  fact,  there  is  no  branch  of  knowledge, 
no  part  of  a  general  system  of  education,  so  much  infec- 
ted, in  all  ages,  with  the  merely  formal,  the  merely 
hollow,  the  merely  artificial,  and  the  totally  lifeless,  as 
Rhetoric.  The  epigram  which  Ausonius  wrote  under 
the  portrait  of  the  Rhetorician  Rufus,  might,  with  too 
much  truth,  be  applied  to  the  Rhetorician  generally : 
Ipse  rhetor,  est  imago  imaginis* 
The  need,  therefore,  of  a  Rhetoric  that  educates  like 
nature,  and  not  artificially ;  a  Rhetoric  that  organizes 
and  vitalizes  the  material  that  is  made  over  to  it  for  pur- 
poses of  form  ;  is  apparent  at  first  glance.  Without  such 
a  method  of  expression,  the  influence  of  the  solid  branches 
of  education  themselves  is  neutralized.  However  full  of 
fresh  and  original  thought  the  mind  may  be,  if  it  has 
been  trained  up  to  a  mode  of  presenting  it,  that  is  in  its 
own  nature  artificial  and  destructive  of  life,  the  freshness 
and  originality  will  all  disappear  in  the  process  of  impart- 
ing it  to  another  mind.  A  Rhetoric  that  is  conformed  to 
nature  and  to  truth,  is  needed,  therefore,  in  order  that  the 
department  itself  may  be  co-ordinate  with  those  higher 
departments  of  knowledge  in  which  the  foundation  of 

*  Ausonii  Epig.  li. 


IMPORTANCE  OF  A  N'ATIRAI.  KHETORfC.        93 

mental  educaioii  is  laid.  Without  suc-h  a  concurrence 
with  the  material  branches  of  education,  such  a  merely 
formal  and  instrumental  branch  as  that  of  Rhetoric,  is 
useless,  and  worse  than  useless.  For  it  only  diverts  the 
mind  from  the  thought  to  the  expression,  without  any 
gain  to  the  latter,  and  to  the  positive  detriment  of  the 
former. 

1.  Rhetoric,  therefore,  can  be  a  truly  educating  and 
influential  department,  only  in  proportion  as  it  is  organ- 
izing^ in  its  fundamental  character.  Jn  order  to  this,  it 
must  be  grounded  first  of  all  in  logic,  or  the  laws  of 
thinking,  and  so  become  not  a  mere  collection  of  rules 
for  the  structure  and  decoration  of  single  sentences,  but 
a  habit  and  process  of  the  human  mind.  The  Rhetori- 
cian must  make  his  first  sacrilice  to  the  austerer  nmses. 
In  an  emblematic  series  by  one  of  the  early  Florentine 
engravers.  Rhetoric  is  represented  by  a  female  figure  of 
dignified  and  commanding  d(>portment,  with  a  helmet 
surmounted  by  a  regal  crown  on  her  head,  and  a  naked 
sword  in  her  right  hand.  And  so  it  should  be.  Soft- 
ness, and  grace,  and  beauty,  must  be  supported  by 
strength  and  prowess  ;  the  golden  and  jewelled  crown 
must  be  defended  by  the  iron  helmet,  and  the  steel  sword. 
A  rhetorical  mind,  therefore,  in  the  best  and  ])roper  sense 
of  the  term,  is  at  bottom  a  constructive  mind ;  a  mind 
capable  of  methodizing  and  organizing  its  ac([uisitions 
and  reflections  into  forms  of  symmetry,  and  strength,  and 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  beauty.  It  is  a  mind  which, 
in  the  effort  to  express  itself,-  begins  from  within  and 
works  outward,  and  whose  product  is,  for  this  reason, 
characterized  by  the  unity  and  thorough  compactness  of 
a  product  of  Nature.  Such,  for  examj)le,  was  the  mind 
of  Demosthenes,  and  such  a  product  is  the  Oration  for 
the  Crown.     The  oratorical  })ower  of  this  great  master  is 


94  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

primarily  a  constructive  talent ;  an  ability  to  methodize 
and  combine.  Take  away  this  deeply-running  and  rig- 
orous force  by  which  the  various  parts  of  the  discourse, 
the  whole  materiel  of  the  plan  and  division,  are  compel- 
led and  compacted  together,  and  this  orator  falls  into  the 
same  class  with  the  Gorgiases  and  the  false  Rhetoricians 
of  all  ages.  Take  away  the  organization  of  the  Ora- 
tion for  the  Crown,  and  a  style  and  diction  a  hundred 
fold  more  brilliant  and  gorgeous  than  that  which  now 
clothes  it,  would  not  save  it  from  the  fate  of  the  false 
Rhetoric  of  all  ages. 

Such  again,  for  example,  was  the  mind  of  the  Apostle 
Paul,  and  such  was  the  character  of  his  Rhetoric.  Those 
short  epistles,  which  like  godliness  are  profitable  for  all 
things,  and  ought  to  be  as  closely  studied  by  the  sermon- 
izer  as  they  are  by  the  theologian,  are  as  jointed  and 
linked  in  their  parts  as  the  human  frame  itself,  and  as 
continuous  in  the  flow  of  their  trains  of  thought  as  the  cur- 
rent of  a  river.  The  mind  of  this  great  first  preacher  to  the 
Gentiles,  this  great  first  sermonizer  to  cultivated  and  scep- 
tical Paganism,  was  also  an  organizing  mind.  How  na- 
turally does  Christian  doctrine,  as  it  comes  forth  from 
this  intellect  whose  native  characteristics  were  not  de- 
stroyed, but  only  heightened  and  purified,  by  inspira- 
tion—  how  naturally  and  inevitably  does  Christian  truth 
take  on  forms  that  are  fitly  joined  together,  and  com- 
pacted by  that  which  every  joint  supplieth ;  statements 
that  are  at  once  logic  and  rhetoric,  and  satisfy  both  the 
reason  and  the  feelings.  '  For  does  not  the  profoundest 
theologian  study  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  to  find 
ultimate  and  absolute  statements  in  sacred  science,  and 
does  not  the  most  unlettered  Christian  read  and  pray  over 
this  same  epistle,  that  his  devotions  may  be  kindled  and 
his  heart  made  better  ?     Does  not,  to  use  the  illustration 


IMPORTANCE  OF  A  NATURAL  RHETORIC.        95 

of  the  Christian  Father,  does  not  the  kmib  find  a  ford- 
ing place  and  the  elephant  a  swimming  place  in  this 
mighty  unremitting  stream  ? 

This  thoroughness  in  the  elaboration  of  the  principal 
ideas  of  a  discourse,  and  this  closeness  in  compacting 
them  into  the  unity  of  a  plan,  is,  therefore,  a  prime  qual- 
ity in  eloquence,  and  it  is  that  which  connects  Rhetoric 
with  all  the  other  departments  of  human  knowledge,  or 
rather  makes  it  the  organ  by  and  through  which  these 
find  a  full  and  noble  expression.  For,  contemplated 
from  this  point  of  view,  what  is  the  orator  but  a  man  of 
culture  who  is  able  to  tell  in  round  and  full  tones  what 
he  knows  ;  and  what  is  oratory  but  the  art  whereby  the 
acquisitions  and  reflections  of  the  general  human  mind 
are  communicated  to  the  present  and  the  future.  We 
cannot,  therefore,  taking  this  view  of  the  nature  of  Rhet- 
oric as  essentially  organizing  in  its  character,  separate  it 
from  the  higher  departments  of  History,  or  Philosophy, 
or  Theology,  but  must  regard  it  as  co-ordinate  and  con- 
current with  them.  The  rhetorical  process  is  to  go  on  in 
education,  along  with  these  other  processes  of  acquisi- 
tion and  information  and  reflection,  so  that  the  final 
result  shall  be  a  mind  not  only  disciplined  inwardly  but 
manifested  outwardly  to  other  minds  ;  so  that  there  shall 
be  not  only  an  intellect  full  of  thought,  and  a  heart  beat- 
ing with  feeling,  and  an  imagination  glowing  with  im- 
agery, but  a  living  expression  of  them  all,  in  forms  of 
unity  and  simplicity  and  beauty  and  grandeur.  In  this 
way  Rhetoric  reaUy  becomes,  what  it  was  once  claimed 
to  be,  the  very  crown  and  completion  of  all  culture,  and 
the  rhetorical  discipline,  the  last  accomplishment  in  the 
process  of  education,  when  the  man  becomes  prepared  to 
take  the  stand  on  the  orator's  bema  before  his  fellow 


96  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

men,  and  dares  to  attempt  a  transfer  of  his  consciousness 
into  them. 

2.  The  second  characteristic  of  a  natural  Rhetoric  is 
the  amplifying-  power.  If  Rhetoric  should  stop  with 
the  mere  organizing  of  thought,  it  might  be  difficult 
to  distinguish  it  from  logic.  But  this  constructive 
talent  in  the  Rhetorician,  is  accompanied  by  another 
ability  which  is  more  purely  oratorical.  We  mean  the 
ability  to  dwell  amply  upon  an  idea  until  it  has  unfolded 
all  its  folds,  and  lays  oft'  richly  in  broad  full  view.  We 
mean  the  ability  to  melt  the  hard  solid  ore  with  so  tho- 
rough and  glowing  a  heat,  that  it  will  run  and  spread 
like  water.  We  mean  the  ability  to  enlarge  and  illus- 
trate upon  a  condensed  and  cubic  idea,  until  its  contents 
spread  out  into  a  wide  expanse  for  the  career  of  the  im- 
agination and  the  play  of  the  feelings. 

This  union  of  an  organizing  with  an  amplifying 
power,  may  be  said  to  be  the  whole  of  Rhetoric.  He 
who  should  combine  both  in  perfect  proportions,  would 
be  the  ideal  orator  of  Cicero.  For  while  the  former  pow- 
er presents  truth  in  its  clear  and  connected  form  for  the 
understanding,  the  latter  transmutes  it  into  its  imagina- 
tive and  impassioned  forms,  and  the  product  of  these 
two  powers,  when  they  are  blended  in  one  living  energy, 
is  Eloquence.  For  Eloquence,  according  to  the  best 
definition  that  has  yet  been  given,  is  the  union  of  Philo- 
sophy and  Poetry  in  order  to  a  practical  end.*  When, 
therefore,  the  logical  organization  is  clothed  upon  with 
the  imaginative  and  impassioned  amplification,  there 
arises  "  a  combination  and  a  form  indeed ; "  a  mental  pro- 
duct adapted  more  than  all  others  to  move  and  influence 
the  human  mind. 

*  Theremin's  Rhetoric,  Book  i.  Chapters  iii.,  iv. 


mi'OKTAXCP:    OF    A    NATURAL    RHETORIC.  97 

But  we  shall  see  still  more  clearly  into  the  essential 
characteristics  of  a  Natural  Rhetoric,  by  passing,  as  we 
now  do,  after  this  brief  analysis,  to  the  second  part  of 
our  discourse,  which  proposes  to  treat  of  the  worth  and 
importance  of  such  a  Rhetoric  to  the  preacher. 

1.  And  in  the  first  place,  a  natural  as  distinguished 
from  an  artificial  Rhetoric,  is  of  the  highest  worth  to  the 
preacher  because  it  isfrmtfuL 

The  preacher  is  one  who,  from  the  nature  of  his  call- 
ing, is  obliged  to  originate  a  certain  amount  of  thought 
within  a  limited  period  of  time,  which  is  constantly  and 
uniformly  recuiTing.  One  day  in  every  seven,  as  regu- 
larly as  the  motion  of  the  globe  brings  it  around,  he  is 
compelled  to  address  his  fellow  men  upon  the  very  highest 
themes,  in  a  manner  and  to  an  extent  that  will  secure 
their  attention  and  interest.  No  profession,  consequent- 
ly, makes  such  a  steady  and  unintermittent  draught  up- 
on the  resources  of  the  mind  as  the  clerical,  and  no  man 
so  much  needs  the  aid  of  a  fertile  and  fruitful  method  of 
discoursing  as  the  Christian  preacher.  Besides  this  great 
amount  of  thinking  and  composition  that  is  required  of 
him,  he  is  moreover  shut  up  to  a  comparatively  small 
number  of  topics,  and  cannot  derive  that  assistance  from 
variety  of  subjects,  and  novelty  in  circumstances,  which 
the  secular  orator  avails  himself  of  so  readily.  The 
truths  of  Christianity  are  few  and  simple,  and  though 
they  are  richer  and  more  inexhaustible  than  all  others, 
they  furnish  little  that  is  novel  or  striking.  The  power 
that  is  in  them  to  interest  and  move  men,  must  be  educed 
from  their  simple  and  solid  sul^stance,  and  not  from  their 
great  number  or  variety.  The  preacher  may,  it  is  true, 
be  able  to  maintain  a  sort  of  interest  in  his  hearers  by 
the  biographical,  or  geographical,  or  archaeological,  or 
historical,  or  literary,  accompaniments  of  the  Scriptures, 

9 


98  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

but  his  permanent  influence  and  power  over  them  as  a 
preacher  must  come  from  his  ability  to  develop  clearly, 
profoundly,  and  freshly,  a  few  simple  and  unadorned 
doctrines.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  undervalue  the  impor- 
tance of  that  training  and  study,  by  which  we  are  intro- 
duced into  that  elder  and  oriental  world  in  which  the 
Bible  had  its  origin,  and  with  whose  scenery,  manners 
and  customs,  and  modes  of  living  and  thinking,  it  will 
be  connected  to  the  end  of  time.  No  student  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  especially  no  sacred  orator,  can  make 
himself  too  much  at  home  in  the  gorgeous  East ;  too 
familiar  with  that  Hebrew  spirit  which  colors  like  blood 
the  whole  Bible,  New  Testament  as  well  as  Old  Testa- 
ment. But  at  the  same  time  he  should  remember  that 
all  this  knowledge  is  only  a  means  to  an  end ;  that  he 
cannot  as  a  preacher  of  the  Word,  rely  upon  this  as  the 
last  source  whence  he  is  to  derive  subject  matter  for  his 
thinking  and  discourse  year  after  year,  but  must  by  it  all 
be  carried  down  to  deeper  and  more  perennial  fountains, 
to  the  few  infinite  facts  and  the  few  infinite  truths  of 
Christianity. 

The  need,  therefore,  of  a  Rhetorical  method  that  is  in 
its  own  nature  fertile  and  fruitful,  is  plain.  And  what 
other  ability  can  succeed  but  that  organizing  and  ampli- 
fying power,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  the  substance  of 
the  Rhetoric  of  Nature  as  the  contrary  of  Art.  Through 
the  former  of  these,  the  preacher's  mind  is  led  into  the 
inmost  structure  and  fabric  of  the  individual  doctrine, 
and  so  of  the  whole  Christian  system ;  and  through  the 
latter  he  is  enabled  to  unroll  and  display  the  endless 
richness  of  the  contents.  It  is  safe  to  say,  that  a  mind 
which  has  once  acquired  this  natural  method  of  develop- 
ing and  presenting  Christian  truth,  cannot  be  exhausted. 
No  matter  how  much  drain  may  be  made  upon  it,  no 


IMPORTANCE  OF  A  NATURAL  RHETORIC.        99 

matter  how  often  it  may  be  called  upon  to  preach  the 
'•  things  new  and  old,"  it  cannot  be  made  dry.  The 
more  it  is  drawn  from,  the  more  salient  and  bulging  is 
the  fulness  with  which  it  wells  up  and  pours  over.  For 
this  organic  method  is  the  key  and  the  clue.  He  who  is 
master  of  it,  he  with  whom  it  has  become  a  mental  hab- 
it and  process,  will  find  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge  in  the  Scriptures  opening  readily  and  richly 
to  him.     He  will  find  his  mind  habitually  in  the  vein. 

2.  And  this  brings  us  to  a  second  characteristic  of  a 
Natural  Rhetoric,  whereby  it  is  of  the  greatest  worth  to 
the  preacher,  viz.,  that  it  is  a  genial  and  invigorating 
method.  All  the  discipline  of  the  human  mind  ought  to 
minister  to  its  enjoyment  and  its  strength.  That  is  a 
false  method  of  discipline,  by  which  the  human  mind  is 
made  to  work  by  an  ungenia.1  effort,  much  more  by 
spasms  and  convulsively.  It  was  made  to  work  like  na- 
ture itself,  calmly,  continuously,  strongly,  and  happily. 
When,  therefore,  we  find  a  system  of  training,  resulting 
in  a  labored,  anxious,  intermittent,  and  irksome,  activity, 
we  may  be  sure  that  something  is  wrong  in  it.  The 
fruits  of  all  modes  of  discipline  that  conform  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  human  mind  and  the  nature  of  truth,  are  free- 
dom, boldness,  continuity,  and  pleasure,  of  execution. 
In  this  connection  weakness  and  tedium  are  faults ;  sick- 
ness is  sin. 

But  the  mental  method  for  which  we  are  pleading, 
while  making  the  most  severe  and  constant  draft  upon 
the  mental  faculties,  at  the  same  time  braces  them  and 
inspires  them  with  power.  The  mind  of  the  orator,  in 
this  slow  organization  and  continuous  amplification  of 
the  materials  with  which  it  is  laboring,  is  itself  alTected 
by  a  reflex  action.  That  truth,  that  divine  truth,  which 
the  preacher  is  endeavoring  to  throw  out,  that  it  may 


100  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

renovate  and  edify  the  soul  of  a  fellow  being,  at  the 
same  time  strikes  in,  and  invigorates  his  own  mind,  and 
swells  his  own  heart  with  joy. 

This  feature,  this  genial  vigor,  in  what  we  have  styled 
a  Natural  Rhetoric,  acquires  additional  importance  when 
we  recur  to  the  fact  that  has  already  been  mentioned, 
viz.,  that  inasrhuch  as  Rhetoric  is  a  formal  or  instrumen- 
tal department,  its  influence  is  liable  to  become,  and  too 
often  has  become,  debilitating  to  the  human  mind. 
When  this  branch  of  discipline  becomes  artificial  and 
mechanical  in  its  character,  by  being  severed  too  much 
from  those  profounder,  and  more  solid,  departments  of 
human  knowledge  from  whose  root  and  fatness  it  must 
derive  ail  its  nourishment  and  circulating  juices  ;  when 
Rhetoric  degenerates  into  a  mere  collection  of  rules  for 
the  structure  of  sentences  and  the  finish  of  diction ;  no 
studies  or  training  will  do  more  to  diminish  the  resources 
of  the  mind,  and  to  benumb  and  kill  the  vitality  of 
the  soul,  than  the  Rhetorical.  The  eye  is  kept  upon  the 
form  merely,  and  no  mind,  individual  or  national,  was 
ever  made  strong  or  fertile  by  the  contemplation  of  mere 
form.  The  mind  under  such  a  tutorage  works  by  rote, 
instead  of  from  an  inward  influence  and  an  organic  law. 
In  reality,  its  action  is  a  surface-action,  which  only  irri- 
tates and  tires  out  its  powers.  Perhaps  the  strongest  ob- 
jections that  have  been  advanced  against  a  Rhetorical 
course  of  instruction,  find  their  support  and  force  here. 
Men  complain  of  the  dryness,  and  the  want  of  geniality, 
of  a  professed  Rhetorician.  The  common  mind  is  not 
satisfied  with  his  studious  artifice,  and  his  measured 
movements,  but  craves  something  more  ;  it  craves  a  ro- 
bust and  hearty  utterance,  a  hale  and  lifesome  method. 
Notice  that  it  is  not  positively  displeased  with  this  pre- 
cision and  finish  of  the  Rhetorician,  but  oiily  with  the 


IMPORTANCi:  OF  A  NATURAL  RHETORIC.       101 

lack  of  a  genial  impulse  under  it.     It  is  its  sins  of  omis- 
sion that  have  brought  Rhetoric  into  disrepute. 

But  when  the  training,  under  consideration,  results  in  a 
genial  and  invigorating  process,  by  which  the  profound- 
est  thinking  and  the  best  feeling  of  the  soul  are  discharg- 
ed to  the  utmost,  and  yet  the  mind  feels  the  more  buoy- 
ant for  it,  and  the  stronger  for  it,  all  such  objections  van- 
ish. There  is,  vv^e  are  confident,  there  is  a  method  of 
disciplining  the  mind  in  the  direction  of  Rhetoric,  and 
for  the  purposes  of  form  and  style,  that  does  not  in  the 
least  diminish  the  vigor  and  the  healthiness  of  its  natural 
processes.  If  there  is  not,  then  the  department  should 
be  annihilated.  If  there  can  be  no  Rhetorical  training  in 
the  schools,  but  such  as  is  destructive  of  the  freshness, 
and  originality,  and  geniality,  of  native  impulses  and 
native  utterances,  then  it  were  far  better  to  leave  the 
mind  to  its  unpruned  and  tangled  luxuriance ;  to  let  it 
wander  at  its  own  sweet  will,  and  bear  with  its  tedious 
windings  and  its  endless  eddies.  Here  and  there,  at 
least,  there  would  be  an  onward  movement,  and  the  in- 
spiration of  a  forward  motion.  But  it  is  not  so.  For, 
says  Shakspeare  :  — 

There  is  an  Art  which  *  *  *  shares 
With  great  creating  Nature. 

There  is  a  close  and  elaborate  discipUne  which  is  in  har 
mony  with  the  poetry,  and  the  feeling,  and  the  eloquence 
of  the  human  soul,  and  which,  therefore,  may  be  employ 
ed  to  evoke  and  express  it.  There  is  a  Rhetoric  which 
when  it  has  been  wi'ought  into  the  mind,  and  has  be 
come  a  spontaneous  method  and  an  instinctive  habit 
with  it,  does  not  in  the  least  impair  the  elasticity  and 
vigor  of  nature,  because  in  the  phrase  of  the  same  great 


102  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

poet  and  master  of  form  from  whom  we  have  just  quoted, 
"  It  is  an  Art  that  Nature  makes,  or  rather  an  Art  which 
itself  is  Nature."  Such  a  Rhetoric  may,  indeed,  be 
defined  to  be  an  Art,  or  discipline,  which  enables  man  to 
be  natural ;  an  Art  that  simply  develops  the  genuine  and 
hearty  qualities  of  the  man  himself,  of  the  mind  itself.  — 
For  the  purpose  of  all  discipline  in  this  direction,  is  not 
to  impose  upon  the  mind  a  style  of  thought  and  expres- 
sion unnatural  and  alien  to  it,  but  simply  to  aid  the  mind 
to  be  itself,  and  to  show  itself  out  in  the  most  genuine 
and  sincere  manner.  The  Rhetorical  Art  is  to  join  on 
upon  the  nature  and  constitution  of  the  individual  man, 
so  that  what  is  given  by  creation,  and  what  is  acquired 
by  culture,  shall  be  homogeneous,  mutually  aiding  and 
aided,  reciprocally  influencing  and  influenced.  And  let 
not  this  mental  veracity,  this  truthfulness  to  a  man's 
individuality  and  mental  structure,  be  thought  to  be  an 
easy  acquisition.  It  is  really  the  last  and  highest  accom- 
plishment. It  is  a  very  difficult  thing  for  a  discourser  to 
be  himself^  genuinely  and  without  affectation.  It  is  a 
still  more  difficult  thing  for  an  orator,  a  man  who  has 
come  out  before  a  hstening  and  criticising  auditory,  to  be 
himself;  genuinely,  fearlessly  and  without  mannerism, 
communicating  himself  to  his  auditors  precisely  as  he 
really  is.  A  simple  and  natural  style,  says  Pascal,  always 
strikes  us  with  a  sort  of  surprise  ;  for  while  we  are  on  the 
lookout  for  an  author^  we  find  a  man^  while  we  are  expect- 
ing a  formal  art^  we  find  a  throbbing  heart.  This  is 
really  the  highest  grade  of  culture,  and  the  point  toward 
w^hich  it  should  always  aim,  viz :  to  bring  Nature  out  by 
means  of  art ;  and  Rhetorical  discipline,  instead  of  leav- 
ing the  pupil  ten-fold  more  formal  and  artificial  than  it 
found  him,  ought  to  send  him  out  among  men,  the  most 


nirORTANCE    OF    A    NATURAL    RHETORIC.  103 

artless,  the  most  lie;iri\',  and  the  most  genuine,  man  of 
them  all. 

Now  of  what  untold  worth  is  such  a  mental  method 
and  habit  to  the  preacher  of  the  Word !  On  this  method, 
literally  and  without  a  metaphor,  the  more  he  works  the 
stronger  he  becomes,  the  more  he  toils  the  happier  he  is. 
He  finds  the  invention  and  composition  of  discourse  a 
means  of  self-culture  and  of  self-enjoyment.  He  fmds 
that  that  labor  to  which  he  has  devoted  his  life,  and  to 
which,  perhaps,  in  the  outset,  he  went  with  something  of 
a  hireling's  feeling,  is  no  irksome  task,  but  the  source  of 
the  noblest  and  most  buoyant  hap])iness.  That  steady 
unintermittent  drain  upon  his  thought  and  his  feeling, 
which  he  feared  would  soon  exsiccate  his  brain  and  leave 
his  heart  dry  as  powder,  he  finds  is  only  an  outlet  for  the 
ever  accumulating  waters  I 

This  invigorating  and  genial  influence  of  the  Rhetori- 
cal method  now  under  consideration,  furthermore,  is  of 
special  worth  in  the  present  state  of  the  world.  There 
never  was  a  time  when  the  general  mind  was  so  impa- 
tient of  dulness  as  now.  He  who  addi'esses  audiences 
at  the  present  day  must  be  vigorous  and  invigorating,  or 
he  is  nothing.  Hence  the  temptation,  which  is  too  often 
yielded  to  by  the  sacred  orator,  to  leave  the  legitimate 
field  of  Christian  discourse  and  to  range  in  <hat  border 
land  which  skirts  it,  or  perhaps  to  pass  into  a  region  of 
thought  that  is  really  profane  and  secular.  The  preacher 
feels  the  need  of  saying  something  fresh,  vigorous,  and 
genial,  and  not  being  able  to  discourse  in  this  style  upon 
the  old  and  standing  themes  of  the  Bible,  he  endeavors 
to  christianize  those  secular  and  temporal  themes  with 
which  the  general  mind  is  already  too  intensely  occupied, 
that  he  may  find  in  them  subjects  for  entertaining,  and, 
as  he  thinks,  original  discourse.     But  this  course  on  the 


104  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

part  of  the  Christian  minister,  must  always  end  in  the 
decline  of  spiritual  religion,  both  in  liis  own  heart  and  in 
that  of  the  Church.  Nothing,  in  the  long  run,  is  truly 
edifying  to  the  Christian  man  or  the  Christian  Church, 
that  is  not  really  religious.  Nothing  can  renovate  and 
sanctify  the  earthly  mind,  but  that  which  is  in  its  own 
nature  spiritual  and  supernatural.  Not  that  which 
resembles  Christian  truth,  or  which  may  be  modified  or 
affected  by  Christian  truth,  can  convict  of  sin  and  con- 
vert to  God,  but  only  the  substantial  and  real  Christian 
truth  itself  Nothing  but  material  fire  can  be  relied  upon 
as  a  central  sun,  as  a  radiating  centre. 

The  Christian  preacher  is  thus  shut  up  to  the  old  and 
uniform  system  of  Christianity  in  an  age  when,  more 
than  in  any  other,  men  are  seeking  for  some  new  thing ; 
when  they  are  seeking  and  demanding  stimulation,  invig- 
oration,  animation,  and  impression.  His  only  true 
course,  therefore,  is  to  find  the  new  in  the  old ;  to  become 
so  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  that  he  shall 
breathe  it  out  from  his  own  mind  and  heart,  upon  his 
congregation,  in  as  fresh  and  fiery  a  tongue  of  flame  as 
that  which  restec^  upon  the  disciples  on  the  day  of  Pen- 
tecost ;  to  enter  so  thoroughly  into  the  genius  and  spirit 
of  the  Christian  system,  that  it  shall  exhibit  itself,  through 
him,  with  an  originality  and  newness  kindred  to  that  of 
its  first  inspired  preachers,  and  precisely  like  that  which 
characterizes  the  sermonizing  of  the  Augustines  and  the 
Bernards,  the  Luthers  and  the  Calvins,  the  Leigh  tons, 
the  Howes,  and  the  Edwardses,  of  the  Church.  What 
renders  the  sermons  of  these  men  so  vivific  and  so  invig- 
orating to  those  who  study  them,  and  to  the  audiences 
who  heard  them  ?  Not  the  variety  or  striking  character 
of  the  topics,  but  the  thoroughness  with  which  the  truth 
was  conceived  and  elaborated  in  their  minds.     Not  an 


IMPORTANCE    OF    A    \ATURAL    RHETORIC.  lOO 

artificial  Rhetoric,  polir^hing  and  garnishing  the  outside 
of  a  subject  in  which  the  mind  has  no  interest,  and  into 
the  interior  of  which  it  lias  not  penetrated  ;  but  an  organ- 
izing Rhetoric,  whereby  the  sermon  shot  up  out  of  the 
great  Christian  system,  like  a  bud  out  of  the  side  of  a 
great  trunk  or  a  great  limb,  part  and  particle  of  the  great 
whole ;  an  amplifying  Rhetoric  whereby  the  sermon  was 
the  mere  evolution  of  an  involution,  the  swelling,  burst- 
ing, leafing  out,  blossoming,  and  fructuation,  of  this  bud. 

3.  And  this  brings  us,  in  the  third  place,  to  the  worth 
of  this  Rhetorical  method  to  the  preacher,  because  it  is 
closely  connected  ivitJi  his  theological  training'  and  disci- 
pline. 

It  is  plain,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  eloquent 
preaching  cannot  originate  without  profound  theological 
knowledge.  The  eloquent  preacher  is  simply  the  thorough 
theologian  who  has  now  gone  out  of  his  study,  and  up 
into  the  j)ulpit.  In  other  words,  eloquence  in  this  as 
well  as  in  every  other  instance  is  founded  in  knowledge. 
Cicero  says  that  Socrates  was  wont  to  say  that  all  men 
are  eloquent  enough  on  subjects  whereon  ihey  have 
knowledge  ;  *  a  saying  which  re-appears  in  the  common 
and  homely  rule  for  eloquence,  "  Have  something  to  say, 
and  then  say  it." 

Hence  a  Rhetorical  training  which  does  not  sustain 
intimate  relations  to  the  general  culture  and  discipline 
of  the  pupil,  is  worthless.  At  no  point  does  an  artificial 
Rhetoric  betray  itself  so  quickly  and  so  certainly  as  here. 
We  feel  that  it  has  no  intercommunication  with  the 
character  and  acquisitions  of  the  individual.  It  is  a 
foreign  method,  which  he  has  adopted  by  a  volition,  and 

*  De  Oratoro.  i.  14. 


106  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

not  a  spontaneous  one  which  has  sprung  up  out  of  his 
character  and  culture,  and  is  in  perfect  sympathy  with  it. 
But  the  Rhetoric  of  nature  has  all  the  theological  train- 
ing of  the  preacher  back  of  it  as  its  support,  beneath  it  as 
its  soil  and  nutriment.  All  that  he  has  become  by  long 
years  of  study  and  reflection,  goes  to  maintain  him  as  a 
Rhetorician,  so  that  his  oratory  is  really  the  full  and 
powerful  display  of  what  he  is  and  has  become  by  vigor- 
ous professional  study.  The  Rhetoric  is  the  man  him- 
self. 

In  this  way,  a  showy  and  tawdry  manner  is  inevitably 
avoided,  as  it  always  should  be,  by  the  preacher.  It  can- 
not be  said  of  him,  as  it  can  be  of  too  many,  "  He  is  a 
7nere  Rhetorician."  For  this  professional  study,  this 
•lofty  and  calm  theological  discipline,  this  solemn  care  of 
human  souls,  this  sacred  professional  character,  will  all 
show  themselves  in  his  general  style  and  manner,  and 
preclude  every  thing  ostentatious  or  gaudy,  much  more 
every  thing  scenic  or  theatrical.  The  form  will  corres- 
pond to  the  matter.  The  matter  being  the  most  solemn 
and  most  weighty  truth  of  God,  the  form  will  be  the 
most  chastened,  the  most  symmetrical,  and  the  most 
commanding,  manner  of  man. 

And  in  this  way,  again,  the  rhetorical  training  of  the 
preacher  will  exert  a  reflex  influence  upon  his  theologi- 
cal training.  A  true  sacred  Rhetoric  is  a  sort  of  practi- 
cal theology,  and  is  so  styled  in  some  nomenclatures.  It 
is  a  practical  expansion  and  exhibition  of  a  scientific 
system  for  the  purpose  of  influencing  the  popular  mind. 
"When,  therefore,  it  is  well  conceived  and  well  handled,  it 
exerts  a  reflex  influence  upon  theological  science  itself, 
that  is  beneficial  in  the  highest  degree.  It  cannot,  it  is 
true,  change  the  nature  and  substance  of  the  truth,  but  it 
can  bring  it  out  into  distinct  consciousness.     The  effort 


IMPORTANCE    OF    A    NATURAL    RHETORIC.  107 

to  popularize  scientific  knowledge,  the  endeavor  to  put 
logic  into  the  form  of  rhetoric,  imparts  a  clearness  to  con- 
ceptions, and  a  determination  to  opinions,  that  cannot 
be  attained  in  the  closet  of  the  mere  speculatist.  Not 
until  a  man  has  endeavored  to  transfer  his  conceptions ; 
not  until  he  has  pushed  his  way  through  the  confusion 
and  misunderstandings  of  another  man's  mind,  and  has 
tried  to  lodge  his"  views  in  it ;  does  he  know  the  full 
significance  and  scope  of  even  his  own  knowledge. 

But  especially  is  this  action  and  re-action  between 
theology  and  sacred  Rhetoric  of  the  highest  worth  to  the 
preacher,  because  it  results  in  a  due  mingling  of  the  the- 
oretic and  the  practical  in  his  preaching.  The  desidera- 
tum in  a  sermon  is  such  an  exact  proportion  between 
doctrine  and  practice,  such  thorough  fusion  of  these  two 
elements,  that  the  discourse  at  once  instructs  and  impels  ; 
and  he  who  supplies  this  desideratum  in  his  sermonizing, 
is  a  powerful,  influential,  and  eloquent,  preacher.  He 
may  lack  many  other  minor  things,  but  he  has  the  main 
thing ;  and  in  time  these  other  minor  things  shall  all  be 
added  unto  him.  In  employing  a  Rhetoric  that  is  at 
once  organizing  and  amplifying  in  its  natm*e  and  influ- 
ence, the  theological  discipline  and  culture  of  the  preacher 
are  kept  constantly  growing  and  vigorous.  Every  sermon 
that  is  composed  on  this  method,  sets  the  whole  body  of 
his  acquisitions  into  motion,  and,  like  a  bucket  continu- 
ally plunged  down  into  a  well  and  continually  drawn  up 
full  and  dripping,  aerates  a  mass  that  would  otherwise 
gi'ow  stagnant  and  putrid. 

4.  Fourthly  and  finally,  the  worth  of  a  natural,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  an  artificial,  Rhetoric,  is  seen  in  the  fact 
that  it  is  connected,  most  intimately,  ivith  the  vital  reli- 
gion of  the  man  and  the  preacher.     For  no  Rhetoric  can 


108  THE    CHARACTERISTICS    AND 

be  organizing  and  vivifying,  that  is  not  itself  organic  and 
alive.  Only  that  which  has  in  itself  a  living  principle, 
can  communicate  life.  Only  that  which  is  itself  vigor- 
ous, can  invigorate.  The  inmost  essential  principle, 
therefore,  of  a  Rhetoric  that  is  to  be  employed  in  the  ser- 
vice of  religion,  must  be  this  very  religion  itself:  deep, 
vital,  piety  in  the  soul  of  the  sacred  orator.  Even  the 
pagan  Cato,  and  the  pagan  Quinctilian  after  him,  made 
goodness,  integrity  and  uprightness  of  character,  the 
foundation  of  eloquence  in  a  secular  sphere,  and  for  se- 
cular purposes.  The  orator,  they  said,  is  an  upright 
man,  first  of  all  an  lipright  man,  who  understands  speak- 
ing. How  much  more  true  then  is  it,  that  Christian 
character  is  the  font  and  origin  of  all  Christian  elo- 
quence ;  that  the  sacred  orator  is  a  holy  man,  first  of  all 
a  holf/  man,  who  understands  speaking. 

We  shall  not,  surely,  be  suspected  of  wishing  to  un- 
dervalue or  disparage  a  department  to  which  we  propose 
to  consecrate  our  whole  time  and  attention,  and,  there- 
fore, we  may  with  the  more  boldness  say,  that  we  have 
always  cherished  a  proper  respect  for  that  theory  which 
has  been  more  in  vogue  in  some  other  denominations 
than  in  our  own,  that  the  preacher  is  to  speak  as  the 
spirit  moves  him.  There  is  a  great  and  solid  truth  at 
the  bottom  of  it,  and  though  the  theory  unquestionably 
does  not  need  to  be  held  up  very  particularly  before  an 
uneducated  ministry,  we  think  there  is  comparatively  lit- 
tle danger  in  reminding  the  educated  man,  the  man  who 
has  been  trained  by  the  rules  and  maxims  of  a  formal 
and  systematic  discipline,  that  the  spring  of  all  his  pow- 
er, as  a  Christian  preacher,  is  a  living'  spring-.  It  is  well 
for  the  sacred  orator,  who  has  passed  through  a  long  col- 
legiate and  professional  training,  and  has  been  taught 
serixionizing  as   an   art,  to  be  reminded  that  the  living 


IMPORTANCE  OF  A  XATLRAL  RHETORIC.       109 

principle,  which  is  to  render  all  this  cnltun^  of  use  for 
purposes  of  practical  impression,  is  vital  godliness;  that 
he  will  be  able  to  assimilate  all  this  material  of  Christian 
eloquence,  only  in  proportion  as  he  is  a  devout  and  holy 
man.  Without  this  interior  religious  life  in  his  soul,  all 
his  resources  of  intellect,  of  memory,  and  of  imagination, 
will  be  unimpressive  and  ineliectual;  the  mere  iron  shields 
and  gold  ornaments  that  crush  the  powerless  Tarpeia. 

For  the  first  and  indispensable  thing  in  every  instance 
is  power.  Given  an  inward  and  living  power,  and  a 
basis  for  motion,  action,  and  impression,  is  given.  In 
every  instance  we  come  back  to  this  ultimate  point. 
There  is  a  theory  among  philosophers,  that  this  hard, 
material  world,  over  which  we  stumble,  and  against 
which  we  strike,  is  at  bottom  two  forces  or  powers, 
held  in  equilibrium  ;  that  when  we  get  back  to  the  real- 
ity of  the  hard  and  dull  clod,  upon  which  "  the  swain 
treads  with  clouted  shoon,"  we  find  it  to  be  just  as  im- 
material, just  as  mobile,  just  as  nimble,  and  just  as  much 
a  living  energy,  as  the  soul  of  man  itself.  Whether  this 
be  truth  or  not  within  the  sphere  of  matter,  one  thing  is 
certain,  that  within  the  sphere  of  mind  we  are  brought 
back  to  forces,  to  fresh  and  living  energies,  in  every  in- 
stance in  which  the  human  soul  makes  an  eloquent  im- 
pression, or  receives  one.  Examine  an  oration,  secular 
or  sacred,  that  actually  moved  the  minds  of  men,  a 
speech  that  obtained  votes,  or  a  sermon  that,  as  we  say, 
saved  souls,  and  you  find  the  ultimate  cause  of  this  elo- 
quence, so  far  as  man  is  concerned,  to  be  a  vital  power 
in  the  orator.  .  The  same  amount  of  instruction  might 
have  been  imparted,  the  same  general  style  and  diction 
might  have  been  employed  in  both  cases,  but  if  that  elo- 
quent poiver  in  the  man  had  been  wanting,  there  would 

10 


110  THE    CHARACTERISTICS     AND 

have  been  no  actuation  of  the  hearer,  and  consequently 
no  eloquence. 

It  is,  therefore  a  great  and  crowning  excellence  of  the 
Rhetorical  method  which  we  have  been  describing,  that 
its  lowest  and  longest  roots  strike  down  into  the  Chris- 
tian character  itself.  It  does  not  propose  or  expect  to 
render  the  preacher  eloquent  without  personal  religion. 
It  tells  hira  on  the  contrary,  that  although  God  is  the 
creator  and  sovereign  of  the  human  soul,  and  can  there- 
fore render  the  truth  preached  by  an  unregenerate  man 
and  in  the  most  unfeeling  irreligious  manner,  effectual  to 
salvation,  yet  that  the  preacher  must  expect  to  see  men 
moved  by  his  discourses,  only  in  proportion  as  he  is  him- 
self a  spiritually-minded,  solemn,  and  devout  man.  Here 
is  the  power^  and  here  is  its  hiding  place,  so  far  as  the 
finite  agent  is  concerned.  In  that  holy  love  of  God  and 
of  the  human  soul,  which  Christianity  enjoins  and  pro- 
duces ;  in  that  religious  affection  of  the  soul  which  takes 
its  origin  in  the  soul's  regeneration  ;  the  preacher  is  to 
find  the  som*ce  of  all  his  eloquence  and  impression  as  an 
orator,  just  as  much  as  of  his  usefulness  and  happiness 
as  a  man  and  a  Christian.  Back  to  this  last  centre  of 
all,  do  we  trace  all  that*  is  genuine,  and  powerful,  and 
influential,  in  Pulpit  Eloquence. 

But  by  this  is  not  meant  merely  that  the  preacher  must 
be  a  man  of  zealous  and  fervid  emotions.  There  is  a 
species  of  eloquence,  which  springs  out  of  easily  excited 
sensibilities,  and  which  oftentimes  produces  a  great  sen- 
sation in  audiences  of  peculiar  characteristics,  and  in 
some  particular  moods.  But  this  eloquence  of  the  flesh 
and  the  blood,  without  the  brain ;  this  eloquence  of  the 
animal,  without  the  intellectual,  spirits  ;  is  very  different 
from  that  deep-toned,  that  solemn,  that  commanding  elo- 
quence, which  springs  from  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul 


nrPORTAXCE    OF    A    NATURAL    RHETORIC.  Ill 

of  man.  We  foci  the  clifTereYice,  all  men  feel  the  differ- 
ence, between  the  impression  made  by  an  ardent  but  su- 
perficial emotion,  and  that  made  by  a  deep  feeling ;  by 
the  sustained,  equable,  and  strong,  pulsation  of  religious 
affections,  as  distinguished  from  religious  sensibilities. 
When  a  man  of  the  latter  stamp  feels,  we  know  that  he 
feels  upon  good  grounds  and  in  reality;  that  this  stir  and 
movement  of  the  affections  is  central  and  all-pervading 
in  him  ;  that  the  eternal  truth  has  taken  hold  of  his  emo- 
tive nature,  moving  the  vjhole  of  it,  as  the  trees  of  the 
wood  are  mov(^d  with  the  wind.  It  is  this  moral  earnest- 
ness of  a  man  who  habitually  feels  that  religion  is  the 
chief  concerii  for  mortals  here  below  ;  it  is  this  profound 
consciousness  of  the  perfections  of  God  and  of  the  worth 
of  the  human  soul ;  which  is  the  inmost  princi])le  of 
sacred  eloquence,  the  vis  vivida  vitce  of  the  sacred  orator. 

^  have  thus,  as  briefly  as  possible,  exhibited  the  princi- 
pal features  of  what  is  conceived  to  be  a  true  method 
in  rhetorical  '  instruction  and  discipline;  not  because 
they  are  new,  or  diflerent  from  the  views  of  the  best 
Rhetoricians  of  all  ages,  but  merely  to  indicate  the  gen- 
eral spirit  in  which  I  would  hope,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  to  conduct  the  department  of  instruction  commit- 
ted to  my  care  by  the  guardians  of  this  Seminary.  The 
department  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  and  Pastoral  Theology  is 
one  that,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  is  not  called  upon 
to  impart  very  much  positive  information.  Its  function 
is  rather  to  induce  an  intellectual  method,  to  form  a 
mental  habit,  to  communicate  a  general  spirit  to  the  fu- 
ture clergyman.  It  is,  therefore,  a  department  of  grow- 
ing importance  in  this  country,  and  in  the  present  state 
of  society  and  the  Church.  Perhaps  the  general  tone 
and  temper  of  the  clerical  profession  was  never  a  matter 


112    THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  A  NATURAL  RHETORIC. 

of  more  importance  than  now.  The  world,  and  this 
country  especially,  is  guided  more  and  more  by  the  gen- 
eral tend-encies  of  particular  classes  and  professions.  In 
politics,  a  party  or  class,  that  really  has  a  tendency,  and 
maintains  it  persistently  for  a  length  of  time,  is  sure  in 
the  end  to  draw  large  masses  after  it.  In  reforms,  a 
class  that  is  pervaded  by  a  distinctive  spirit,  which  it 
sedulously  preserves  and  maintains,  is  sure  of  a  wide  in- 
tlnenee,  finally.  In  literature,  or  philosophy,  or  theology,  a 
school  that  has  a  marked  and  determined  character  of  its 
own,  and  keeps  faith  with  it,  v/ill  in  the  course  of  time 
be  rewarded  for  its  self-consistency  by  an  increase  in 
numbers  and  in  power.  In  all  these  cases,  and  in  all 
other  cases,  the  steady,  continuous  stream  of  a  general 
tendency  sucks  into  its  own  volume  all  the  float  and 
drift,  and  carries  it  along  with  it.  And  the  eye  of  the 
refiectins:  observer,  a.«  it  rans-es  over  the  ocean  of  Amer- 
ican  society,  can  see  these  currents  and  tendencies,  as 
plainly  as  the  eye  of  the  mariner  sees  the  Gulf-stream. 

How  important,  then,  is  any  position  which  makes  the 
occupant  to  contribute  to  the  formation  of  a  general 
spirit  and  temper,  in  so  influential  a  class  of  men  as  the 
clerical!  Well  may  such  an  one  say.  Who  is  suflicient 
fortius  thing?  For  myself,  I  should  shrink  altogether 
from  this  toil,  and  this  responsibility,  did  I  not  dare  to 
hope  that  the  providence  of  that  Being,  who  is  the 
sovereign  controller  of  all  tendencies  and  all  movements 
in  the  universe,  has  led  me  hither.  In  his  strength  would 
I  labor,  and  to  Him  would  I  reverently  commend  myself 
and  this  institution. 


THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF  THE 
HISTORIC  SPIRIT. 


AN    INAUGURAL    DISCOURSE    DELIVERED    IN    ANDOVER    THEOLOGICAL 
SEMINARY,  FEB.  15,  1854. 


The  purpose  of  an  Inaugural  Discourse  is,  to  give  a 
correct  and  weighty  impression  of  the  importance  of 
some  particular  department  of  knowledge.  Provided  the 
term  be  employed  in  the  technical  sense  of  Aristotle  and 
Quinctilian,  the  Inaugural  is  a  demonstrative  oration, 
the  aim  of  which  is  to  justify  the  existence  of  a  specific 
professorship,  and  to  magnify  the  specific  discipline 
which  it  imparts.  It  must,  consequently,  be  the  general 
object  of  the  present  discourse  to  praise  the  department, 
and  recommend  the  study,  of  History. 

As  we  enter  upon  the  field  which  opens  out  before  us, 
we  are  bewildered  by  its  immense  expanse.  The  whole 
hemisphere  overwhelms  the  eye.  The  riches  of  the  sub- 
ject embarrass  the  discussion.  For  this  science  is  the 
most  comprehensive  of  all  departments  of  human  knowl- 
edge. In  its  unrestricted  and  broad  signification,  it  in- 
cludes all  other  branches  of  human  inquiry.  Everything 
in  existence  has  a  history,  though  it  may  not  have  a  phi- 
losophy, or  a  poetry ;  and,  therefore,  history  covers  and 

10*  (113) 


114  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

pervades  and  enfolds  all  things  as  the  atmosphere  does 
the  globe.  Its  subject-matter  is  all  that  man  has  thought, 
felt,  and  done,  and  the  line  of  Schiller  is  true  even  if 
taken  in  its  literal  sense :  the  final  judgment  is  the  his- 
tory of  the  world.* 

If  it  were  desirable  to  bring  the  whole  encyclopaedia  of 
human  knowledge  under  a  single  term,  certainly  history 
w^ould  be  chosen  as  the  most  comprehensive  and  elastic 
of  all.  And  if  we  consider  the  mental  qualifications  re- 
quired for  its  production,  the  department  whose  nature 
and  claims  we  are  considering,  still  upholds  its  superi- 
ority, in  regard  to  universality  and  comprehensiveness. 
The  historic  talent  is  inclusive  of  all  other  talents.  The 
depth  of  the  philosopher,  the  truthfulness  and  solemnity 
of  the  theologian,  the  dramatic  and  imaginative  power 
of  the  poet,  are  all  necessary  to  the  perfect  historian,  and 
would  be  found  in  him,  at  their  height  of  excellence,  did 
such  a  being  exist.  For  it  has  been  truly  said,  tliat  we 
shall  sooner  see  a  perfect  philosophy,  or  a  perfect  poem, 
than  a  perfect  history. 

We  shall,  therefore,  best  succeed  in  imparting  unity 
to  the  discourse  of  an  hour,  and  in  making  a  single  and, 
therefore,  stronger  impression,  by  restraining  that  career 
which  the  mind  is  tempted  to  make  over  the  whole  of 
this  ocean-like  arena,  and  confining  our  attention  to  a 
single  theme. 

It  will  be  our  purpose,  then,  to  speak, 

Firsts  Of  that  peculiar  spirit  imparted  to  the  mind  of 
an  educated  man,  by  historical  studies,  which  may  be 
denominated  the  historic  spirit ;  and 

Secondly^  Of  its  influence  upon  the  theologian. 

The  historic  spirit  may  be  defined  to  be :  the  spii'it  of 

*  Resignation. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  115 

the  race  as  distinguished  from  that  of  the  individual,  and 
of  all  time  as  distinguished  from  that  of  one  age. 

We  here  assume  that  the  race  is  as  much  a  reality  as 
the  individual ;  for  this  is  not  the  time  nor  place,  even  if 
the  ability  were  possessed,  to  reopen  and  reargue  that 
great  question  which  once  divided  the  philosophic  world 
into  two  grand  divisions.  We  assume  the  reality  of 
both  ideas.  We  postulate  the  real  and  distinct,  though 
undivided,  being  of  the  common  humanity  and  the  par- 
ticular individuality.  We  are  unable,  with  the  Nominal- 
ist, to  regard  the  former  as  the  mere  generalization  of 
the  latter.  The  race  is  more  than  an  aggi'cgate  of  sepa- 
rate individualities.  History  is  more  than  a  collection 
of  single  biographies,  as  the  national  debt  is  more  than 
the  sum  of  individual  liabilities.  Side  by  side,  in  one  and 
the  same  subject ;  in  every  particular  human  person  ;  ex- 
ist the  common  humanity  with  its  universal  instincts  and 
tendencies,  and  the  individuality  with  its  particular  in- 
terests and  feelings.  The  two  often  come  into  conflict 
with  an  earnestness,  and  at  times  in  the  e})ic  of  history 
with  a  terrible  grandeur,  that  indicates  that  neither  of 
them  is  an  abstraction ;  that  both  are  solid  with  the  sub- 
stance of  an  actual  being,  and  throb  with  the  pulses  of 
an  intense  vitality. 

The  difference  between  history  and  biography  involves 
the  distinct  entity  and  reality  of  both  the  race  and  the 
individual.  Biography  is  the  account  of  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  single  person  disconnected  from  the  species, 
and  is  properly  concerned  only  with  that  which  is  char- 
acteristic of  him  as  an  isolated  individual.  But  that 
which  is  national  and  philanthropic  in  his  nature  ;  that 
which  is  social  and  political  in  his  conduct  and  career ; 
all  that  links  him  with  his  species  and  constitutes  a  part 
of  the  development  of  man  on  the  glo^e;  all  thi^  is  his- 


116  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

torical  and  not  biographic.  Speaking  generally  in  or- 
der to  speak  briefly,  all  that  activity  which  springs  up 
out  of  the  pure  individualism  of  the  person,  makes  up 
the  charm  and  entertainment  of  biography,  and  all  that 
activity  which  originates  in  the  humanity  of  the  person 
furnishes  the  matter  and  the  grandeur  of  history. 

History,  then,  is  the  story  of  the  race.  It  is  the  exhi- 
bition of  the  common  generic  nature  of  man  as  this  is 
manifested  in  that  great  series  of  individuals  which  is 
crowding  on,  one  after  another,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
through  the  ages  and  generations  of  time.  The  historic 
muse  omits  and  rejects  everything  in  this  march  and 
movement  of  human  beings  that  is  pecuhar  to  them  as 
selfish  units ;  everything  that  has  interest  for  the  man, 
but  none  for  mankind  ;  and  inscribes  upon  her  tablet 
only  that  which  springs  out  of  the  common  humanity, 
and  hence  has  interest  for  all  men  and  all  time. 

History,  therefore,  is  continuous  in  its  nature.  It  is  so 
because  its  subject-matter  is  a  continuity.  This  common 
human  nature  is  in  the  process  of  continuous  evolution, 
and  the  wounded  snake  drags  its  slow  length  along  down 
the  ages  and  generations.  No  single  individual;  no  single 
age  or  generation  ;  no  single  nationality,  however  rich  and 
capacious  ;  shows  the  whole  of  man,  and  so  puts  a  stop 
to  human  development.  The  time  will,  indeed,  come, 
and  the  generation  and  the  single  man,  will  one  day  be, 
in  whom  the  entire  exhibition  will  close.  The  number 
of  individuals  in  the  human  race  is  predetermined  and 
fixed  by  Him  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning.  But 
until  the  end  of  the  series  comes,  the  development  must 
go  on  continuously,  and  the  history  of  it,  must  be  con- 
tinuous also.  It  must  be  linked  with  all  that  has  gone 
before ;  it  must  be  linked  with  all  that  is  yet  to  come. 
As  it  requires  the  whole  series  of  individuals,  in  order 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  117 

to  a  complete  manifestation  oi"  the  s]:)ecies,  so  it  re(juires 
the  whole  series  of  ages  and  periods,  in  order  to  an 
entire  account  of  it. 

But  while  history  is  thus  continuous  in  its  nature,  par- 
adoxical as  it  may  appear,  it  is  at  the  same  time  complete 
in  its  spirit.  Observe  that  we  are  speaking  of  the  ab- 
stract and  ideal  character  of  the  science  ;  of  that  quality 
by  which  it  differs  from  other  branch<^s  of  knowledge. 
We  are  not  speaking  of  any  one  particular  narrative  that 
lias  actuallji  been  composed,  or  of  all  put  together.  History 
as  actually  written  is  not  the  account  of  a  completed  pro- 
cess, because,  as  we  have  just  said,  the  development  is 
still  going  on.  Still,  the  tendency  of  the  department  is 
to  a  conclusion.  History  looks  to  a  winding  up.  We 
may  say  of  it,  as  Bacon  says  of  unfulfilled  prophecies: 
"  though  not  fulfilled  punctually  and  at  once,  it  hath  a 
springing  and  gerininant  accomplishment  through  many 
ages."  It  contains  and  defines  general  tendencies ;  it  in- 
timates, at  every  point  of  the  line,  a  final  consummation. 
The  historical  processes  that  have  actually  taken  j)lace, 
all  point  at,  and  join  on  upon,  the  future  processes  that 
are  to  be  homogeneous  with  them.  That  very  con- 
tinuity in  the  nature  of  this  science,  of  wdiich  we  have 
spoken,  results  in  this  completeness,  or  tendency  to  a 
conclusion,  in  its  spirit.  Like  a  growing  plant,  we  know 
what  it  will  come  to,  though  the  growth  is  not  ended. 
For  it  is  characteristic  of  an  evolution,  provided  it  is  a 
genuine  one,  that  seize  it  when  you  will,  and  observe  it 
at  any  point  you  please,  you  virtually  seize  the  whole  ; 
you  observe  it  all.  Each  particular  section  of  a  develop- 
ment exhibits  the  qualities  of  the  whole  process,  and  the 
organic  part  contemplated  by  itself  throbs  wiih  the  gen- 
eral life.  Hence  it  is  that  each  particular  history  ;  of  a 
nation,  or  an  age,  or  a  form  of  government,  or  a  school 


118  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

of  philosophy,  or  a  Christian  doctrine  ;  when  conceived 
in  the  spirit  of  history,  wears  a  finished  aspect,  and  sounds 
a  full  and  fundamental  tone.  And  hence  the  proverb  : 
man  is  the  same  in  all  ages,  and  history  is  the  repetition 
of  the  same  lessons. 

So  universal  and  virtually  complete  in  its  spirit  is  this 
science,  that  a  distinguished  modern  philosopher  has  as- 
serted that  it  may  become  a  branch  of  a  priori  knowl- 
edge, and  that  it  actually  does  become  such  in  propor- 
tion as  it  becomes  philosophic.  Being  the  account,  not 
of  a  dislocation,  but  of  a  development,  and  this  of  one 
race ;  being  the  exhibition  of  the  unfolding  of  one  single 
idea  of  the  Divine  mind ;  tlie  history  of  the  world,  he 
contends,  might  be  written  beforehand  by  any  mind  that 
is  master  of  the  idea  lying  at  the  bottom  of  it.  The 
whole  course  and  career  of  the  world,  is  predetermined 
by  its  plan,  and  supposing  this  to  be  known,  the  histo- 
rian is  more  than  "  the  prophet  looking  backward,"  as 
Schlegel  calls  him ;  he  is  the  literal  prophet.  He  does 
not  merely  inferentially  foretell,  by  looking  back  into  the 
past,  but  he  sees  the  whole  past  and  future  simidtaneously 
present  in  the  Divine  idea  of  the  world,  of  which  by  the 
hypothesis  he  is  perfectly  possessed. 

This  philosopher  believed  in  the  possibility  of  such  an 
absolutely  perfect  and  a  priori  history,  because  he  taught 
that  the  mind  of  man  and  the  mind  of  God  are  one 
universal  mind,  and  that  the  entire  knowledge  of  the  one 
may  consequently  be  possessed  by  the  other.  While, 
however,  the  philosopher  erred  fatally  in  supposing  that 
any  being  but  God  the  Creator,  can  be  thus  perfectly 
possessed  of  the  organic  idea  of  the  Vv^orld,  or  that  man 
can  come  into  an  approximate  possession  of  it  except  as 
it  is  revealed  to  him  by  the  Supreme  mind,  in  providence 
and  revelation,  we  must  yet  admit  that  the  world  is  con- 


THE     HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  119 

structed  according  to  yuch  an  idea  or  plan,  and  Ihat  for 
this  reason,  coherence,  completeness,  and  universality, 
are  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  its  development. 
While,  therefore,  we  deny  that  history  as  actually 
written,  or  as  it  shall  be,  comes  up  to  this  absolute  and 
metaphysical  perfection,  it  would  be  folly  to  deny  that  it 
has  made  any  approximation  towards  it,  or  that  it  will 
make  still  more.  So  far  as  the  account  has  been  com- 
posed under  the  guiding  light  of  this  divine  idea,  which 
is  manifesting  itself  in  the  affairs  of  men  ;  so  far,  in  other 
words,  as  it  has  been  written  in  the  light  of  providence 
and  revelation ;  it  has  been  composed  with  truth,  and 
depth,  and  power.  Historians  have  been  successful  in 
gathering  the  lessons  and  solving  the  problems  of  their 
science  in  proportion  as  they  have  recognized  a  provi- 
dential plan  in  the  career  of  the  world,  and  have  had 
some  clear  apprehension  of  it.  The  most  successful  par- 
ticular narratives  seem  to  be  parts  of  a  greater  whole.  — 
They  have  an  easy  reference  to  general  history  ;  evidently 
belong  to  it ;  evidently  were  written  in  its  comprehensive 
spirit  and  by  its  broad  lights.  So  much  does  this  science 
abhor  a  scattering,  isolating,  and  fragmentary,  method  of 
treating  the  subject-matter  belonging  to  it,  that  those 
histories  which  have  been  composed  without  any  historic 
feeling;  with  no  reference  to  the  Divine  plan  and  no 
connection  with  the  universe ;  are  the  most  dry  and  life- 
less productions  in  literature.  Disconnection,  and  the 
absence  of  a  unifying  principle,  are  more  marked,  and 
more  painfully  felt,  in  historical  composition,  than  in  any 
other  species  of  literature.  Even  when  the  account  is 
that  of  a  brief  period,  or  mere  point,  as  it  were,  in  univer- 
sal space,  the  mind  demands  that  it  be  rounded  and 
finished  in  itself;  that  it  exhibit,  in  little,  that  same  com- 


120  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

plete  and  coherent  process,  which  is  going  on  more 
grandly,  on  the  wider  arena  of  the  world  at  large. 

History,  then,  is  the  exhibition  of  the  species.  Its 
lessons  may  be  relied  upon  as  the  conclusions  to  which 
the  human  race  have  come.  In  these  historic  lessons,  the 
narrowness  of  individual  and  local  opinions  has  been 
exchanged  for  the  breadth  and  compass  of  public  and 
common  sentiments.  The  errors  to  which  the  single 
mind  ;  the  isolated  unit,  as  distinguished  from  the  organic 
unity  ;  is  exposed,  are  corrected  by  the  sceptical  and  criti- 
cal processes  of  the  general  mind. 

What,  for  illustration,  is  its  teaching  in  regard  to  the 
presence  and  relative  proportions  in  a  political  constitu- 
tion of  the  two  opposite  elements,  permanence  and  pro- 
gression ?  Will  not  the  judgment,  in  regard  to  this 
vexed  question,  that  is  formed  on  historic  grounds,  be,  to 
say  the  least,  safer  and  truer,  than  that  formed  upon  the 
scanty  experience  of  an  individual  man  ?  Will  not  the 
decision  of  one  who  has  made  up  his  mind  after  a 
thoughtful  study  of  the  ancient  tyrannies  and  republics 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  of  the  republican  states  of  Italy  in 
the  middle  ages,  of  the  politics  of  Europe  since  the  for- 
mation of  its  modern  state-system,  be  nearer  the  real 
truth  than  that  of  a  pledged  and  zealous  partisan,  on  either 
side  of  the  question ;  than  that  of  the  ancient  Cleon  or 
Coriolanus  ;  than  that  of  the  modern  Rousseau  or  Filmer  ? 
And  why  will  it  be  nearer  the  truth  ?  Not  merely 
because  these  men  were  earnest  and  zealous.  Ardor 
and  zeal  are  well  in  their  place.  But  because  these 
minds  were  individual  and  local ;  because  they  were  not 
historic  and  general  in  views  and  opinions. 

Take  another  illustration  from  the  department  of  phi- 
losophy. A  great  variety  of  theories  have  been  projected 
respecting  the  nature  and  operations  of  the  human  mind, 


THE    HISTORIC    Sl'IIUT.  121 

SO  that  it  becomes  difficult  for  the  bewildered  inquirer  to 
know  which  he  shall  adopt.  But  will  he  run  the  hazard 
of  fundamental  error,  if  he  assumes  that  that  theory  is 
the  truth,  so  far  as  truth  has  been  reached  in  this  domain, 
which  he  finds  substantially  present  in  the  philosophic 
mind  in  all  ages  ?  if  he  concludes  that  the  historic  phi- 
losophy is  the  true  philosophy  ?  And  will  it  be  safe  for 
the  individual  to  set  up  in  this  department,  or  in  the  still 
higher  one  of  religion,  doctrines  which  have  either  never 
entered  the  human  mind  before,  or,  if  they  have,  have 
been  only  ti'ansient  residents  ? 

The  fact  is,  no  one  individual  mind  is  capable  of 
accomplishing,  alone  and  by  itself,  what  the  race  is  des- 
tined to  accomplish  only  in  the  slow  revolution  of  its 
cycle  of  existence.  It  is  not  by  the  thought  of  any  one 
individual,  though  he  were  as  profound  as  Plato  and  as 
intuitive  as  Shakspeare,  that  truth  is  to  obtain  an  exhaus- 
tive manifestation.  The  whole  race  is  to  try  its  power, 
and,  in  the  end,  or  rather  at  every  point  in  the  endless 
career,  is  to  acknowledge  that  the  absolute  is  not  yet 
fully  known ;  that  the  knowledge  of  man  is  still  at  an 
infinite  distance  from  that  of  God.  Much  has  been  said, 
and  still  is,  of  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  and  extravagant 
expectations  have  been  formed  in  regard  to  its  insight 
into  truth  and  its  power  of  applying  it  for  the  progress 
of  the  species.  But  a  single  age  is  merely  an  individual 
of  larger  gi'owth.  There  is  always  something  particular, 
something  local,  something  temporary,  ki  every  age,  and 
we  must  not  look  here  for  the  generic  and  universal  any 
more  than  in  the  notions  of  the  individual  man.  No  age 
is  historic,  in  and  by  itself.  Like  the  individual,  it  only 
contributes  its  portion  of  investigation  and  opinion,  to 
the  sum  total  of  material  which  is  to  undergo  the  test, 
not  of  an  age,  but  of  the  ages. 

11 


122         THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF 

Considerations  like  these  go  to  show,  that  there  is  in 
that  which  is  properly  historic,  nothing  partial,  nothing 
defective,  nothing  one-sided.  It  is  the  individual  which 
has  these  characteristics  ;  and  only  in  proportion  as  the 
individual  man  becomes  historic  in  his  views,  opinions 
and  impressions ;  only  as  his  culture  takes  on  this  large 
and  catholic  spirit,  does  he  become  truly  educated.  It  is 
the  sentiment  of  mankind  at  large,  it  is  the  opinion  of  the 
race,  which  is  to  be  accepted  as  truth.  When,  therefore, 
the  mind  of  the  student,  in  the  course  of  its  education,  is 
subjected  to  the  full  and  legitimate  influence  of  historical 
studies,  it  is  subjected  to  a  rectifying  influence.  The 
individual  eye  is  purged,  so  that  it  sees  through  a  crys- 
talline medium.  That  darkening,  distorting  matter, 
composing  oftentimes  the  idiosyncracy  rather  than  the 
individuality  of  the  intellect,  is  drained  off. 

Having  thus  briefly  discussed  the  nature  of  the  his- 
toric spirit  by  a  reference  to  the  abstract  nature  of  the 
science  itself,  let  us  now  seek  to  obtain  a  more  concrete 
and  lively  knowledge  of  it,  by  looking  at  some  of  its 
actual  influences  upon  the  student.  Let  us  specify  some 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  historical  mind. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  the  historical  mind  is  both  reverent 
and  vigilant. 

The  study  of  all  the  past  raises  the  intellect  to  a  loftier 
eminence  than  that  occupied  by  the  student  of  the  present; 
the  man  of  the  time.  The  vision  of  the  latter  is  limited 
by  his  own  narrow  horizon,  while  that  of  the  former  goes 
round  the  globe.  As  a  consequence,  the  historic  mind  is 
impressed  with  the  vastness  of  truth.  It  knows  that  it 
is  too  vast  to  be  all  known  by  a  single  mind,  or  a  single 
age ;  too  immense  to  be  taken  in  at  a  single  glance, 
much  less  to  be  stated  in  a  single  proposition.  Histori- 
cal studies  have,  moreover,  made  it  aware  of  the  fact  that 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  123 

truth  is  modified  by  passing  through  a  variety  of  minds  ; 
that  each  form  taken  by  itself  is  imjDerfect,  and  that,  in 
some  instances  at  least,  all  forms  put  together  do  not 
constitute  a  perfect  manifestation  of  the  "  daughter  of 
time."  The  posture  and  bearing  of  such  a  mind,  there- 
fore, towards  all  truth,  be  it  human  or  divine,  is  at  once 
reverent  and  vigilant.  It  is  seriously  impressed  by  the 
immensity  of  the  field  of  knowledge,  and  at  the  same 
time  is  adventurous  and  enterprising  in  ranging  over  it. 
For  it  was  when  the  human  imagination  was  most 
impressed  by  the  vastness  of  the  globe,  that  the  spirit  of 
enterprise  and  adventure  was  most  rife  and  successful. 
Before  the  minds  of  Columbus  and  De  Gama,  before  the 
imagination  of  the  Northmen  and  the  early  English 
navigators,  space  sti'etched  away  westward  and  south- 
ward like  the  spaces  of  astronomy,  and  was  invested 
with  the  awfulness  and  grandeur  of  the  spaces  of  the 
Miltonic  Pandaemonium.  Yet  this  sense  of  space,  this 
mysterious  consciousness  of  a  vaster  world,  was  the  very 
stimulation  of  the  navigator;  the  direct  cause  of  all 
modern  geographical  discovery.  The  merely  individual 
mind,  on  the  contrary,  seeing  but  one  form  of  truth,  or, 
at  most,  but  one  form  at  a  time,  is  apt  to  take  this 
meagre  exhibition  for  the  full  reality,  and  to  suppose  that 
it  has  reached  the  summit  of  knowledge.  It  is  self-satis- 
fied and  therefore  irreverent.  It  is  disposed  to  rest  in 
present  acquisitions  and  therefore  is  neither  vigilant  nor 
enterprising. 

11.  And  this  naturally  suggests  the  second  characteris- 
tic of  the  historical  mind:  its  productiveness  and  origi- 
nality. 

Such  a  mind  is  open  to  truth.  The  first  condition  to 
the  advancement  of  learning  is  fulfilled  by  it ;  for  it  is 
the  fine  remark  of  Bacon,  that  the  kingdom  of  science, 


124  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

like  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  is  open  only  to  the  child  ; 
only  to  the  reverent,  recipient,  and  docile,  understanding. 
Perhaps  nothing  contributes  more  to  hinder  the  progress 
of  truth  than  self-satisfied  ignorance  of  what  the  human 
mind  has  already  achieved.  The  age  that  isolates  itself 
from  the  rest  of  the  race  and  settles  down  upon  itself, 
will  accomplish  but  little  towards  the  development  of 
man  or  of  truth.  The  individual  who  neglects  to  make 
himself  acquainted  with  the  history  of  men  and  of  opin- 
ions, though  he  may  be  an  intense  man  within  a  very 
narrow  circumference,  will  make  no  real  advance  and  no 
new  discoveries.  Even  the  ardor  and  zealous  energy, 
often  exhibited  by  such  a  mind,  and,  we  may  say,  char- 
acteristic of  it,  contribute  rather  to  its  growing  ignorance, 
than  its  growing  enlightenment.  For  it  is  the  ardor  of  a 
mind  exclusively  occupied  with  its  own  peculiar  notions. 
Its  zeal  is  begotten  by  individual  pecuUarities,  and  expen- 
ded upon  them.  Having  no  humble  sense  of  its  own 
limited  ability,  in  comparison  with  the  vastness  of  truth, 
or  even  in  comparison  with  the  power  of  the  universal 
human  mind,  it  closes  itself  against  the  great  world  of 
the  past,  and,  as  a  penalty  for  this,  hears  but  few  of  the 
deeper  tones  of  the  "many  voiced  present."  In  the 
midst  of  colors  it  is  blind ;  in  the  midst  of  sounds  it  is 
deaf. 

That  mind,  on  the  contrary,  which  is  imbued  with  the 
enterprising  spirit  of  history,  contributes  to  the  progress 
of  truth  and  knowledge  among  men,  by  entering  into  the 
great  process  of  inquiry  and  discovery  which  the  race  as 
such  has  begun  and  is  carrying  on.  It  moves  onward 
with  fellow-minds,  in  the  line  of  a  preceding  advance, 
and  consequently  receives  impulse  from  all  the  movement 
and  momentum  of  the  past.  It  joins  on  upon  the  truth 
which  has  actually  been  unfolded,  and  is  thereby  enabled 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  125 

to  make  a  positive  and  valuable  addition  to  the  existing 
knowledge  of  the  human  race. 

For  the  educated  man,  above  all  men,  should  see  and 
constantly  remember,  that  progress  in  the  intellectual 
world,  does  not  imply  the  discovery  of  truth  absolutely  new; 
of  truth  of  which  the  human  mind  never  had  even 
an  intimation  before,  and  which  came  into  it  by  a  mortal 
leap,  abrupt  and  startling,  without  antecedents  and  with- 
out premonitions.  This  would  be  rather  of  the  nature 
of  a  Divine  revelation  than  of  a  human  discovery.  A 
revelation  from  God  is  different  in  kind  from  a  discovery 
of  the  human  reason.  It  comes  down  from  another 
sphere,  from  another  mind,  than  that  of  man ;  and, 
although  it  is  conformed  to  the  wants  of  the  human  race, 
can  by  no  means  be  regarded  as  a  natural  development 
out  of  it ;  as  a  merely  historical  process,  like  the  origina- 
tion of  a  new  form  of  government,  or  a  new  school  of 
philosophy.  A  discovery  of  the  human  mind,  on  the 
contrary,  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  pure,  spontaneous,  pro- 
duct of  the  human  mind  ;  as  one  fold  in  its  unfolding. 

It  follows,  consequently,  that  progress  in  human  knowl- 
edge, progress  in  the  development  of  human  reason,  does 
not  imply  the  origination  of  truth  absolutely  and  in  all 
respects  unknown  before.  The  human  mind  has  pre- 
sentiments ;  dim  intimations ;  which  thicken  all  along 
the  track  of  human  history  like  the  hazy  belt  of  the 
galaxy  among  the  clear,  sparkling,  mapped,  stars.  These 
presentiments  are  a  species  and  a  grade  of  knowledge.  — 
They  are  not  distinct  and  stated  knowledge,  it  is  true, 
but  they  are  by  no  means  blank  ignorance.  The  nebulae 
are  visible^  though  not  yet  resolved.  Especially  is  this 
true  in  regard  to  the  mind  of  the  race ;  the  general  and 
historic  mind.  How  often  is  the  general  mind  restless 
and  uneasy  with  the  dim  anticipation  of  the  future  dis- 

11* 


126  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLLENCE,    OF 

covery  ?  This  unrest,  with  its  involved  longing,  and  its 
potential  knowledge,  comes  to  its  height,  it  is  true,  in 
the  mind  of  some  one  individual  who  is  most  in  posses- 
sion of  the  spirit  of  his  time,  and  who  is  selected  by 
Providence  as  the  immediate  instrument  of  the  actual 
and  stated  discovery.  But  such  an  one  is  only  the 
secondary  cause  of  an  effect,  whose  first  cause  lies  lower 
down  and  more  abroad.  There  were  Reformers  before 
the  Reformation.  Luther  articulated  himself  upon  a 
process  that  had  already  begun  in  the  Christian  church, 
and  ministered  to  a  want,  and  a  very  intelligent  want 
too,  that  was  already  in  existence.  Columbus  shared  in 
the  enterprising  spirit  of  his  time,  and  differed  in  degree, 
and  not  in  kind,  from  the  bold  navigators  among  whom 
he  was  born  and  bred.  That  vision  of  the  new  world 
from  the  shores  of  old  Spain ;  that  presentiment  of  the 
existence  of  another  continent  beyond  the  deep ;  a  pre- 
sentiment so  strong  as  almost  to  justify  the  poetic 
extravagance  of  Schiller's  sonnet,*  in  which  he  says,  that 
the  boding  mind  of  the  mariner  would  have  created  a 
continent,  if  there  had  been  none  in  the  trackless  West 
to  meet  his  anticipation ;  that  prophetic  sentiment,  Co- 
lumbus possessed,  not  as  an  isolated  individual,  but  as  a 
man  who  had  grown  up  with  his  age  and  into  his  age ; 
whose  teeming  mind  had  been  informed  by  the  traditions 
of  history,  and  whose  active  imagination  had  been  fired 
by  the  strange  narratives  of  anterior  and  contempora- 
neous navigation. 

Another  proof  of  the  position  that  the  individual  mind 
owes  much  of  its  inventiveness  and  originality  to  its 
ability  to  join  on  upon  the  invention  and  origination 
already  in  existence,  is  found  in  the  fact,  that  some  of 

*  Columbus. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  127 

the  most  marked  discoveries  in  science  have  occurred 
simultaneously  to  dilVerent  minds.  The  dispute  between 
the  adherents  of  Newton  and  Leibnitz  respecting  prior- 
ity of  discovery  in  the  science  of  Fluxions,  is  hardly  yet 
settled ;  but  the  candid  mind  on  either  side  will  acknowl- 
edge that,  be  the  mere  matter  of  priority  of  detailed  dis- 
covery and  publication  as  it  may,  neither  of  these  great 
minds  was  a  servile  plagiary.  The  Englishman,  in  re- 
gard to  the  German,  thought  alone  and  by  himself;  and 
the  German,  in  regard  to  the  Englishman,  thought  alone 
and  by  himself.  But  both  thought  in  the  light  of  past 
discoveries,  and  of  all  then  existing  mathematical  knowl- 
edge. Both  were  under  the  laws  and  impulse  of  the 
general  scientific  mind,  as  that  mind  had  manifested 
itself  historically  in  preceding  discoveries,  and  was 
now  using  them  both  as  its  organ  of  investigation  and 
medium  of  distinct  announced  discovery.  The  disj)ute 
between  the  English  and  French  chemists,  respecting 
the  comparative  merits  of  Black  and  Lavoisier,  *s  still 
kept  up ;  but  here,  too,  candor  must  acknowledge  that 
both  were  original  investigators,  and  that  an  earlier  death 
of  either  would  not  have  prevented  the  discovery. 

Now  in  both  of  these  instances  the  minds  of  individ- 
uals had  been  set  upon  the  ti'ail  of  the  new  discovery  by 
history ;  by  a  knowledge  of  the  then  present  state  and 
wants  of  science.  They  had  kept  up  with  the  develop- 
ment of  science  ;  they  knew  what  had  actually  been 
achieved ;  they  saw  what  was  still  needed.  They  felt 
the  wants  of  science,  and  these  felt  wants  were  dim  an- 
ticipations of  the  supply,  and  finally  led  to  it.  It  was 
because  Newton  and  Leibnitz  both  labored  in  a  historical 
line  of  direction,  that  they  labored  in  the  same  line,  and 
came  to  the  same  result,  each  of  and  by  himself.  For 
this  historical  basis  for  inquiry  and  discovery  is  common 


128  THE     NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 


to  all.  And  as  there  is  but  one  truth  to  be  discovered, 
and  but  one  high  and  royal  road  to  it,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing that  often  several  minds  should  reach  the  goal  sim- 
ultaneously. 

A  striking  instance  of  the  productive  power  imparted 
to  the  individual  mind  by  its  taking  the  central  position 
of  history,  is  seen  in  the  department  of  philosophy.  In 
this  department  it  is  simply  impossible,  for  the  individ- 
ual thinker  to  make  any  advance  unless  he  first  make 
himself  acquainted  with  what  the  human  mind  has  al- 
ready accomplished  in  this  sphere  of  investigation.  With- 
out some  adequate  knowledge  of  the  course  which  phi- 
losophic thought  has  already  taken,  the  individual  in- 
quirer in  this  oceanic  region  is  all  afloat.  He  does  not 
even  know  where  to  begin,  because  he  knows  not  where 
others  have  left  off";  and  the  system  of  such  a  philoso- 
pher, if  it  contain  truth,  is  most  commonly  but  the  dry 
repetition  of  some  previous  system.  Originality  and 
true  progress  here,  as  elsewhere,  are  impossible  without 
history.  Only  when  the  individual  has  made  his  mind 
historic  by  working  his  way  into  that  great  main  current 
of  philosophic  thought,  which  may  be  traced  from  Py- 
thagoras to  Plato  and  Aristotle,  from  Aristotle  to  the 
Schoolmen,  and  from  the  Schoolmen  to  Bacon  and 
Kant,  and  moving  onward  with  it  up  to  the  point  where 
the  next  stage  of  true  progress  and  normal  development 
is  to  join  on ;  only  when  he  has  thus  found  the  proper 
point  of  departure  in  the  present  state  of  the  science,  is 
he  prepared  to  depart,  and  to  move  forward  on  the 
straight  but  limitless  line  of  philosophic  inquiry.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  the  speculative  systems  of  Germany 
exhibit  such  productiveness  and  originality.  Whatever 
opinion  may  be  held  respecting  the  correctness  of  the 
Germanic  mind  in  this  department,  no  one  can  deny  its 


/ 

THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  129 

fertility.  The  Teutonic  philosopher  first  prepares  for  the 
appearance  of  his  system,  by  a  history  of  philosophy  in 
the  past,  and  then  aims  to  make  his  own  system  the 
crown  and  completion  of  the  entire  historic  process  ;  the 
last  link  of  the  long  chain.  It  is  tme  that,  in  every  in- 
stance thus  far  in  the  movement  of  this  philosophy,  the 
intended  last  link  has  only  served  as  the  support  of  an- 
other and  still  other  links,  yet  only  in  this  way  of  historic 
preparation  could  such  a  productive  method  of  ])hiloso- 
phizing  have  been  attained.  Only  from  the  position  of 
history,  even  though  it  be  falsely  conceived,  can  the  spec- 
ulative reason  construct  new  and  original  systems. 

A  good  illustration  of  the  defectiveness  which  must 
attach  to  a  system  of  philosophy,  when  it  is  not  conceiv- 
ed and  constructed  in  the  light  of  the  history  of  })hiloso- 
phy,  is  seen  in  the  so-called  Scotch  school.  A  candid 
mind  nuist  admit  that  the  spirit  and  general  aim  of  this 
system  was  sound  and  correct.  It  was  a  reaction  against 
the  sensual  school,  especially  as  that  system  had  been 
run  out  to  its  logical  extreme  in  France.  It  recognized 
and  made  much  of  first  truths,  and  that  faculty  of  the 
mind  which  the  ablest  teacher  of  tTiis  school  loosely  de- 
nominated Common  Sense,  and  still  more  loosely  defin- 
ed, was  unquestionably  meant  to  be  a  power  higher  than 
that  which  "judges  according  to  sense."  But  it  was  not 
an  original  system,  in  the  sense  of  grasping  with  a 
stronger  and  more  scientific  grasp  than  had  ever  been 
done  before,  upon  the  standing  problems  of  philosophy. 
It  is  true  that  it  addressed  itself  to  the  solution  of  the 
old  problems,  in  the  main,  in  the  right  spirit  and  from  a 
deep  interest  in  the  truth,  but  it  did  not  go  low  enough 
down,  and  did  not  get  near  enough  to  the  heart  of 
the  difficulty,  to  constitute  it  an  original  and  powerful 
system  of  speculation.     Its  greatest  defect  is  the  lack  of 


130  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

a  scientific  spirit,  which  is  indicated  in  the  fact  that, 
although  it  has  exerted  a  wide  influence  upon  the  popu- 
lar mind,  it  has  exerted  but  little  influence  upon  the  phi- 
losophic mind,  either  of  Great  Britain  or  the  Continent. 
And  this  defect  is  to  be  traced  chiefly  to  the  lack  of 
an  extensive  and  profound  knowledge  of  the  history  of 
philosophic  speculation.  The  individual  mind,  in  this 
instance,  attempted  a  refutation  of  the  acute  arguments 
of  scepticism,  without  much  knowledge  of  the  previous 
developments  of  the  sceptical  understanding  and  the 
counter-statements  of  true  philosophy.  A  comprehen- 
sive and  reproductive  study  of  the  ancient  Grecian  philo- 
sophies, together  with  the  more  elaborate  and  profound 
of  the  modern  systems,  would  have  been  a  preparatory 
discipline  for  the  Scottish  reason  that  would  have  armed 
it  with  a  far  more  scientific  and  original  power.  Its 
aim,  in  the  first  place,  would  have  been  liigher,  because 
its  sense  of  the  difficulty  to  be  overcome  would  have 
been  far  more  just  and  adequate.  With  more  knowledge 
of  what  the  human  intellect  had  already  accomplished, 
both  on  the  side  of  truth  and  of  error,  its  reflection  would 
have  been  more  profound ;  its  point  of  view  more  cen- 
tral ;  its  distinctions  and  definitions  more  philosophical 
and  scientific ;  and  its  refutations  more  conclusive  and 
unanswerable.* 


*  This  deficiency  in  scientific  character,  in  tlie  Scotch  philosophy,  is  felt 
by  its  present  and  ab'est  defender,  Sir  William  Hamilton.  More  deeply 
imbued  witli  the  spirit  of  the  department  than  either  Reid  or  Stewart  was, 
because  of  a  wider  and  more  thorough  scholarship  than  either  of  them  pos- 
sessed, he  has  been  laboring  to  give  it  what  it  lacks.  Bivt^it  is  more  than 
doubtful  whether  any  mind  that  denies  the  possibility  of  metaphysics  as 
distinguished  from  psychology,  will  be  able  to  do  much  towards  imparting 
a  necessary  and  scientific  character  either  to  philosophy  generally,  or  to  a 
system  which  is  popular  rather  than  philosophic,  in  its  foundations  and  su- 
perstructure. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  131 

Thus  we  might  examine  all  the  departments  of  hu- 
man knowledge,  singly  by  themselves,  and  we  should 
find  that,  in  regard  to  each  of  them,  the  individual  mind 
is  made  at  once  recipient  and  original  by  the  preparatory 
discipline  of  historical  studies  and  the  possession  of  the 
historic  spirit.  Even  in  the  domain  of  Literature  and 
Fine  Art,  the  mind  that  keeps  up  with  the  progress  of 
the  nation  or  the  race  ;  the  mind  that  is  able  to  go  along 
with  the  great  process  of  national  or  human  development 
in  this  department ;  is  the  original  and  originant  mind. 
Although  in  Poetry  and  Fine  Art,  freshness  and  ^original- 
ity seem  to  depend  more  upon  the  impulse  of  individual 
genius  and  less  upon  the  general  movement  of  the  na- 
tional or  the  universal  mind,  yet  here,  too,  it  is  a  fact, 
that  the  founders  of  particular  schools  ;  we  mean  schools 
of  eminent  and  historic  merit ;  have  been  men  of  exten- 
sive study,  and  liberal,  universal  sympathies.  The  great 
masters  of  the  several  schools  of  Italian  Art,  were  dili- 
gent students  of  the  Antique,  and  had  minds  open  to 
truth  and  nature  in  all  the  schools  that  preceded  them. 
They,  moreover,  cherished  a  historic  feeling  and  spirit,  by 
a  most  intimate  and  general  intercourse  with  each  other. 
The  earnest  rivalry  that  prevailed,  sprung  up  from  a 
close  study  of  each  other's  productions.  The  view  which 
Cellini  presents  us  of  the  relations  of  the  Italian  artists 
to  each  other,  and  of  the  general  spirit  that  prevailed 
among  them,  shows  that  there  was  very  little  that  was 
bigoted  and  individual  in  those  minds  so  remarkable  for 
originality  and  productiveness  within  their  own  sphere. 

A  very  fine  and  instructive  illustration  of  the  truth  we 
are  endeavoring  to  establish,  is  found  in  the  department 
of  Literature  in  the  poet  Wordsworth.  This  man  was  a 
student.  He  cultivated  the  poetic  faculty  within  him  as 
sedulously  as   Newton  cultivated  the    scientific   genius 


132  THE     NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

within  him.  He  retired  up  into  the  mountains,  when  he 
had  once  determined  to  make  poetry  the  aim  of  his  lite- 
rary life,  and  by  the  thoughtful  perusal  of  the  English 
poets,  as  much  as  by  his  brooding  contemplation  of  ex- 
ternal nature,  enlarged  and  strengthened  his  poetic  power. 
By  familiarizing  himself  with  the  spirit  and  principle, 
the  imvard  history^  of  English  poetry,  he  became  largely 
imbued  with  the  national  spirit.  And  he  was  thorough 
in  this  course  of  study.  He  not  only  devoted  himself  to 
the  works  of  the  first  EngHsh  poets,  the  Chancers,  Spen- 
sers,  Shakspeares  and  Miltons ;  but  he  patiently  studied 
the  productions  of  the  second  class,  so  much  neglected 
by  Englishmen,  the  Draytons,  the  Daniels,  and  the 
Donnes.  The  works  of  these  latter  are  not  distinguished 
for  passion  in  sentiment  or  beauty  in  form,  but  they  are 
remarkable  for  that  thoroughly  English  property,  thought- 
ful sterling  sense.  Wordsworth  was  undoubtedly  at- 
tracted to  these  poets,  not  merely  because  he  believed, 
with  that  most  philosophic  of  English  critics  who  was 
his  friend  and  contemporary,  that  good  sense  is  the  body 
of  poetry,  but  because  he  saw  that  an  acquaintance  with 
them  was  necessary  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Eng- 
lish poetry  considered  as  a  historic  process  of  develop- 
ment, as  one  phase  of  the  English  mind.  For,  although  a 
poem  like  the  Polyolbion  of  Drayton  can  by  no  means 
be  put  into  the  first  class  with  the  Faery  Queen  of 
Spenser,  it  yet  contains  more  of  the  English  temper,  and 
exhibits  more  of  the  flesh  and  muscle  of  the  native  mind. 
These  writers  Wordsworth  had  patiently  studied,  as  is 
indicated  by  that  vein  of  strong  sense  which  runs  like  a 
muscular  cord  through  the  more  light  and  airy  texture 
of  his  musings.  It  was  because  of  this  historical  train- 
ing as  a  poet,  that  Wordsworth's  poetry  breathes  a  far 
loftier  and  ampler  spirit  than  it  would  have  done  had  it 


Till-;    JIISTORIC    SPIRIT.  133 

been  like  that  of  Byron,  for  example,  the  product  of  an 
intense,  but  ignorant  and  narrow,  individualism.  And 
it  \vas  also  because  of  this  training,  that  Wordsworth, 
while  preserving  as  original  an  individuality,  certainly,  as 
any  writer  of  his  time,  acquired  a  much  more  national 
and  universal  poetic  spirit  than  any  of  his  contemporaries, 
and  was  the  most  productive  poet  of  his  age. 

The  result,  then,  of  the  discussion  of  the  subject  un- 
der this  head  is,  that  the  individual  mind  acquires  power 
of  discernment  and  power  of  statement  only  by  enter- 
ing into  a  process  already  going  on ;  into  the  great  main 
movement  of  the  common  human  mind.  In  no  way  can 
the  educated  man  become  genially  recipient,  and  at  the 
same  time  richly  productive,  but  by  a  profound  study  of 
the  development  which  truth  has  already  attained  in  the 
history  of  man  and  the  world. 

III.  The  third  characteristic  of  the  historical  mind  is 
its  union  of  moderation  and  enthusiasm. 

One  of  the  most  distinct  and  impressive  teachings  of 
history  is,  that  not  every  opinion  which  springs  up  and  has 
cun-ency  in  a  particular  age,  is  true  for  all  time.  History 
records  the  rise  and  great  popularity,  for  a  while,  of  ma- 
ny a  theory  which  succeeding  ages  have  consigned  to 
oblivion,  and  which  has  exerted  no  permanent  influence 
upon  human  progress.  There  always  are,  among  the 
opinions  and  theories  prevalent  in  any  particular  period, 
some,  and  perhaps  many,  that  have  not  truth  enough  in 
them  to  preserve  them.  And  yet  these  may  be  the  very 
ones  that  seize  upon  the  individual  and  local  mind  with 
most  violence  and  most  immediate  effect.  Because  they 
are  partial  and  narrow,  they  for  this  reason. grasp  the 
popular  mind  more  fiercely  and  violently.  Were  they 
broader  and  more  vmiversal  in  their  character,  their  im- 
mediate influence  might  be  less  visible,  because  it  would 

12 


134  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

extend  over  a  far  wider  surface,  and  go  down  to  a  much 
low^er  depth.  A  blow  upon  a  single  point  makes  a  deep 
dint,  but  displaces  very  few  particles  of  matter,  while  a 
steady  heavy  pressure  over  the  whole  surface,  changes 
the  position  of  every  atom,  with  but  littlo  superficial 
chawge. 

The  proper  posture,  therefore,  of  the  individual  mind, 
and,  especially,  of  the  educated  mind,  tovv^ards  the  current 
opinions  of  the  age  in  which  he  lives,  is,  that  of  modera- 
tion. The  educated  man  should  keep  his  mind  equable, 
and,  in  some  degree,  aloof  from  passing  views  and  theo- 
ries. He  ought  not  to  allow  theories  that  have  just  come 
into  existence  to  seize  upon  his  understanding  with  all 
that  assault  and  onset  with  which  they  take  captive  the 
uneducated,  and,  especially,  the  unhistoric  mind.  Of 
what  use  are  the  teachings  of  history  if  they  do  not  serve 
to  render  the  mind  prudently  distrustful  in  regard  to  new- 
born opinions,  at  the  same  time  that  they  throw  it  wide 
open  and  fill  it  with  a  strong  confidence  towards  all  that 
has  historically  proved  itself  to  be  true  ?  Is  it  for  the 
cultivated  man,  the  man  of  broad  and  general  views,  to 
throw  himself  without  reserve  and  with  all  his  weight, 
into  what,  for  aught  he  yet  knows,  may  be  only  a  cross- 
current and  eddy,  instead  of  the  main  stream  of  truth  ? 

Now  it  is  only  by  the  possession  of  a  historic  spirit 
that  the  individual  can  keep  himself  sufficiently  above 
the  course  of  things  about  him,  to  enable  him  to  judge 
correctly  concerning  them.  Knowing  what  the  human 
mind  has  already  accomplished  in  a  particular  direction, 
in  art  or  science,  in  philosophy  or  religion,  he  very  soon 
sees  whether  the  particular  movement  of  the  time  in  any 
one  of  these  directions,  will  or  will  not  coincide  with  the 
preceding  movement  and  be  concurrent  with  it.  He 
occupies  a  height,  a  vantage  ground,  by  virtue   of  his 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  135 

extensive  hislorical  knowledge,  and  he  stands  upon  it, 
not  with  the  tremor  and  fervor  of  a  j3artisan,  but  with 
the  cahnness  and  insight  of  a  judge.  Suppose  the  activ- 
ity of  an  age,  or  of  -an  individual,  manifests  itself  in  the 
production  of  a  new  theory  in  religion,  of  some  new 
statement  of  Christian  doctrine,  the  mind  that  is  well 
versed  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  church,  and  of 
Christian  doctrine,  will  very  quickly  see  whether  the 
new  joins  on  upon  the  old ;  whether  it  is  an  advance  in 
the  line  of  progress  or  a  deviation  from  it.  And  his 
attitude  will  be  accordingly.  He  will  not  be  led  astray 
with  the  multitude  or  even  with  the  age.  Through  all 
the  fervor  and  zeal  of  the  period,  he  will  preserve  a  mod- 
erate and  temperate  tone  of  mind ;  committing  himself 
to  current  opinions  no  faster  than  he  sees  they  will 
amalgamate  with  the  truth  which  the  human  mind  has 
already  and  confessedly  discovered  in  past  ages  ;  with 
historic  truth. 

This  moderation  in  adopting  and  maintaining  current 
opinions  is  an  infallible  characteristic  of  a  true  scholar, 
(  f  a  ripe  culture.  And  it  is  the  fruit  of  that  criticism  and 
scepticism  which  is  generated  by  historical  study.  For 
it  is  one  of  the  effects  of  such  studies  to  render  the  mind 
critical  and  sceptical ;  not,  indeed,  in  respect  to  truth  that 
has  stood  the  test  of  time,  but  to  truth  that  has  just  made 
its  appearance.  It  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  the  study 
of  history  genders  absolute  doubt  and  unbelief  in  the 
mind  ;  that  it  tends  generally  and  by  its  very  nature  to 
nnsettle  faith  in  the  good  and  the  true.  This  w^ould  be 
the  case  if  there  were  no  truth  in  the  science ;  if  it  were 
substantially  the  record  of  dissension  and  disagreement ; 
if,  above  the  din  and  uproar  of  discordant  voices,  one 
clear  and  clarion-like  voice  did  not  make  itself  heard  as 
the  voice  of  universal  history.     We  are  all  familiar  with 


136  THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF 

the  story  told  of  Raleigh,  who  is  said  to  have  destroyed 
the  unpublished  half  of  bis  work,  because  of  several 
persons  who  professed  to  describe  an  occurrence  in  the 
Tower  Court,  which  he  had  also  -witnessed  from  his 
prison  window,  each  gave  a  difi'erent  version  of  it,  and 
his  own  di  tiered  from  theirs.  But  history  is  not  thus 
uncertain  and  unreliable.  It  teaches  but  one  lesson.  It 
reveals  but  one  truth.  Down  through  the  ages  and 
generations  it  traces  one  straight  line,  and  in  this  one 
line  of  direction  lies  truth,  and  out. of  it  lies  error.  Its 
record  of  the  successes  and  triumphs  of  truth  certainly 
teaches  a  correct  lesson,  and  its  record  of.  the  successes 
and  triumphs  of  error  is  but  the  dark  backgi-ound  from 
w^hich  truth  stands  out  in  still  more  bold  and  impressive 
reality.  Whatever  may  be  the  case  with  particular 
accounts  by  particular  individuals,  the  main  current  of 
this  science  runs  in  one  direction,  and  its  great  lesson  is 
in  favor  of  truth  and  righteousness. 

Not,  then,  towards  well-tried  and  well-established  truth, 
but  towards  apparent  and  newly-discovered  truth,  does 
history  engender  criticism  and  scepticism.  The  past  is 
secure.  That  which  has  verified  itself  by  the  lapse  of 
time,  and  the  course  of  experiment,  and  the  sifting  of 
investigation,  is  commended  as  absolute  and  universal 
truth  to  the  individual  mind,  and  history  bids  it  to 
believe  and  doubt  not.  But  that  which  is  current  merely ; 
that  which  in  the  novelty  and  youth  of  its  existence  is 
carrying  all  men  away  ;  must  stand  trial,  must  be  brought 
to  test,  as  all  its  predecessors  have  been.  Towards  the 
opinions  and  theories  of  the  present,  so  far  as  they  vary 
from  those  of  the  past,  the  historical  mind  is  inquisitive, 
and  critical,  and  sceptical,  not  for  the  purpose,  be  it 
remembered,  of  proving  them  to  be  false,  but  with  the 
generous  hope  of  evincing  them  to   be  true.     For  the 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  137 

scepticism  of  history  is  very  difl'erent  from  scepticism  in 
religion.  The  latter  is  always  in  some  way  biassed  and 
interested.  It  springs  out  of  a  desire,  conscious  or  uncon- 
scious, to  overthrow  that  which  the  general  mind  has 
found  to  be  true,  and  is  resting  in  as  truth.  Scepticism 
in  religion  has  always  been  in  the  minority  ;  at  war  with 
the  received  opinions  of  the  race,  and  consequently  with 
all  that  is  historic.  There  never  was  an  individual  scep- 
tic, from  Pyrrho  to  Strauss,  who  was  not  unhistorical ; 
who  did  not  take  his  stand  outside  of  the  great  travelled 
road  of  human  opinion ;  who  did  not  try  to  disturb  the 
human  race  in  the  possession  of  opinions  that  had  come 
down  from  the  beginning,  besides  having  all  the  instincts 
of  reason  to  corroborate  them.  But  the  scepticism  of 
history  has  no  desne  to  overthrow  any  opinion  that  has 
verified  itself  in  the  course  of  ages,  and  been  organically 
assimilated,  in  the  course  of  human  development.  All 
such  opinion  and  aU  such  truth  constitutes  the  very  sub- 
stance of  the  science  itself;  its  very  vitality  and  charm 
for  the  human  mind ;  and,  therefore,  can  never  be  the 
object  of  doubt  or  attack  for  genuine  historic  scepticism. 
On  the  contrary,  these  sifting  and  critical  methods  have 
no  other  end  or  aim  but  to  make  a  real  addition  to  the 
existing  stock  of  well-ascertained  truth,  and  to  prevent 
any  erroneous  opinion  or  theory  from  going  into  this 
sum-total,  and  thus  receiving  the  sterling  stamp  and 
endorsement.  This  criticism  and  scepticism  is  simply 
for  self-protection.  These  sceptical  and  sifting  processes 
are  gone  through  with,  to  preserve  an  all-sided  science 
pure  from  the  individual,  the  local,  and  the  temporary, 
and  to  keep  it  universal  and  absolute  in  its  contents  and 
spirit. 

Now  it  might  seem  at  first  glance,  that  this  modera- 
tion of  mind  towards  current  opinions  would  preclude  all 

12* 


138  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

earnestness  and  enthusiasm  in  the  educated  man ;  thai 
the  historic  spirit  must  necessarily  be  cold  and  phlegma- 
tic. It  might  seem  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  such 
a  mind  to  take  an  active  and  vigorous  interest  in  the 
age  in  which  it  lived,  and  that  it  would  be  out  of  its 
element  amid  the  stir  and  motion  going  on  all  around  it. 
This  is  substantially  the  objection  which  the  half-educat- 
ed disciple  of  the  present  brings  against  history  and  his- 
torical views  and  opinions. 

But  this  is  a  view  that  is  false  from  defect ;  from  not 
containing  the  ivhole  truth.  It  arises  from  not  taking 
the  full  idea  of  the  science  into  the  mind.  This  idea, 
like  all  strictly  so-called  ideas,  contains  two  opposites, 
which,  to  the  superficial  glance,  look  like  irreconcilable 
contraries,  but  to  a  deeper  and  more  adequate  intuition, 
are  not  only  perfectly  reconcilable,  but  are  opposites  in 
whose  conciliation  consists  the  vitality  and  fertility  of 
the  idea,  and  of  the  science  founded  upon  it.  History, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  both  continuous  and  complete ;  and 
continuity  and  completeness  are  opposite  conceptions.  — 
It  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  record  of  a  development  that 
must  unintermittently  go  on,  and  cannot  cease,  until  the 
final  consummation.  And  it  is,  in  the  second  place, 
complete  in  its  spirit,  because  at  every  point  in  the  con- 
tinuous process  there  are  indications  of  the  consumma- 
tion ;  tendencies  to  an  ultimate  end.  No  part  of  history 
is  irrelative.  Even  when  it  is  but  the  account  of  a  par- 
ticular period,  a  small  section  of  the  great  historic  process, 
it  exhibits  this  complete  and  universal  spirit  by  clinging 
to  what  precedes  and  pointing  to  what  succeeds  ;  by  its 
large  discourse  of  reason  looking  before  and  after.  But 
the  objector  does  not  reconcile  these  opposites  in  his 
own  mind  ;  he  does  not  take  this  comprehensive  and  full 
view  of  the  subject.     Whether  he  acknowledges  it  or  not, 


TFIE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  139 

his  view  really  is,  that  the  many  several  ages  of  wliich 
history  takes  cognizance,  have  no  inward  connection  with 
each  other,  nor  any  common  tendency,  and  consequently 
that  the  whole  entire  past,  in  relation  to  the  present,  is  a 
nonentity.  It  is  gone,  with  all  that  it  was  and  did,  into 
"  the  dark  backward  and  abysm  "  of  time,  and  the  present 
age,  like  every  other,  starts  independent  and  alone  upon 
its  particular  mission.  His  view  of  history  is  atomic.  — 
On  his  theory,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  either  connected 
evolution  or  explanatory  termination,  in  the  course  of  the 
world.  There  is  no  human  race,  no  common  humanity, 
to  be  manifested  in  the  millions  of  individuals,  and  the 
multitudes  of  ages  and  epochs.  On  this  theory,  there  is 
and  can  be  nothing  in  the  past,  in  which  the  present  has 
any  vital  interest ;  nothing  in  the  past  which  has  any 
authority  for  the  present ;  nothing  in  the  past  which  con- 
stitutes the  root  of  the  present,  and  nothing  in  the  present 
which  constitutes  the  germ  of  the  future.  History,  on 
this  theory,  has  no  principle  ;  no  organization.  It  is  a 
mere  catalogue  of  events  ;  a  mere  list  of  occurrences. 

It  is  because  the  imperfectly  educated  disciple  of  the 
present,  really  takes  this  view,  that  he  asserts  that  his- 
toric views  and  opinions  are  deadening  in  their  influence 
upon  the  mind,  and  that  the  historic  spirit  is  a  lifeless 
spirit.  If  he  believed  in  a  living  concatenation  of  events 
and  a  vital  propagation  of  influences,  he  would  not  say 
that  that  which  is  truly  historical,  is  virtually  dead  and 
buried.  If  he  believed  that  no  one  age,  any  more  than 
any  one  individual,  contains  the  whole  of  human  devel- 
opment within  itself,  but  is  only  one  fold  of  the  great 
unfolding,  he  would  suspect,  at  least,  that  there  might  be 
elements  in  the  past  so  assimilated  and  wTOught  into  the 
history  of  universal  man  that  they  are  matters  of  living 
interest  for  every  present  age.     If  he  believed  that  truth 


140  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

is  reached  only  by  the  successive  and  consentaneous 
endeavors  of  many  individual  minds,  each  making  use 
of  all  the  labors  of  its  predecessors,  and  each  taking  up 
the  standing  problem  where  its  predecessors  had  dropped 
it ;  if  the  too  zealous  disciple  of  the  present  believed  that 
ti'uth  is  thus  reached  only  by  the  efforts  of  the  race ;  of 
the  universal  mind  in  distinction  from  the  individual ;  he 
would  find  life  all  along  the  line  of  human  history ;  he 
would  see  that  in  taking  into  his  mind  a  historic  view  or 
opinion  he  was  lodging  there  the  highest  intensity  of 
mental  life ;  the  very  purest  and  densest  reason  of  the 
race. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  being  cold,  phlegmatical  and  life- 
less, the  historical  mind  is  really  the  only  truly  living  and 
enthusiastic  mind.  It  is  the  only  mind  that  is  in  com- 
munication. It  is  the  only  mind  that  is  not  isolated.  — 
And  in  the  mental  world,  intercommunication  is  not 
more  necessary  to  a  vital  process,  and  isolation  or  break- 
ing off  is  not  more  destructive  of  a  vital  process,  than  in 
the  world  of  nature.  That  zeal,  begotten  by  the  narrow 
views  of  an  individual,  or  a  locality,  or  an  age,  which  the 
unhistorical  mind  exhibits,  is  an  altogether  different  thing 
from  the  enthusiasm  of  a  spirit  enlarged,  educated,  and 
liberalized,  by  an  acquaintance  with  all  ages  and  opin- 
ions. Enthusiasm  springs  out  of  the  contemplation  of  a 
whole ;  zeal  from  the  examination  of  a  part.  And  there 
is  no  surer  test  and  sign  of  intellectual  vitality  than 
enthusiasm ;  that  deep  and  sustained  interest  which  is 
grounded  in  the  broad  views  and  profound  intuitions  of 
history. 

But  while  the  well-read  student  of  history  preserves  a 
wise  and  cautious  moderation,  in  the  outset,  towards 
current  opinions,  yet,  because  of  this  genial  and  enthusi- 
astic interest  in  the  truth  which  the  human  mind  has 


THK     HISTORIC  SPIRIT.  141 

actually  aiul  witliout  dispute  arrivrd  at,  he.  in  the  cud 
comes  to  take  all  the  interest  in  the  views  and  theories 
of  the  present,  which  they  really  deserve.  The  historical 
mind  does  no  ultimate  injustice.  So  far  and  so  fast  as 
it  finds  that  the  new  movement  of  the  present  age  is  a 
natural  coiUinuation  of  the  unfinished  developinent  of 
the  past,  does  he  acknowledge  it  as  a  step  in  advance, 
and  receives  the  new  element  into  his  mind  and  into  his 
culture  with  all  the  enthusiasm  and  all  the  feeling  with 
which  he  adopts  the  great  historic  systems  of  anticpiity. 
In  this  way  the  historical  mind  is  actually  more  truly 
alive  and  interested  even  in  relation  to  the  present,  than 
the  man  of  the  present.  It  appreciates  the  real  excel- 
lence of  the  time  more  intelligently  and  profoundly,  and 
it  certainly  has  a  far  more  inspiriting  view  of  the  connec- 
tion of  this  excellence  with  the  excellence  that  has  pre- 
ceded it,  and  w^hich  is  the  root  of  it.  How  much  more 
inspiring  and  enlivening  is  that  vision  which  sees  the 
progress  of  the  present  linked  to  that  of  all  the  past,  and 
contributing  to  make  up  that  long  line  of  development 
extending  through  the  whole  career  of  the  human  species, 
than  that  vision  which  sees  but  one  thing  at  a  time,  and 
does  not  even  know  that  it  has  any  living  references,  or 
any  organic  connections  whatever  I 

As  an  exemplification  of  the  preceding  remarks,  con- 
template for  a  moment  the  historian  Niebuhr.  His 
was  a  genuinely  historical  mind.  He  conceived  and  con- 
structed in  the  true  spirit  of  history.  He  always  viewed 
events  in  the  light  of  the  organization  by  which  they 
were  shaped  and  of  which  they  were  elementary  parts. 
He  saw  by  a  native  sagacity,  in  which  respect  he  never 
had  a  superior,  the  idea  lying  at  the  bottom  of  a  histori- 
cal process ;  such,  for  example,  as  the  separate  founda- 
tion of  the  city  of  Rome;  the  rise  and  formation  of  the 


142 


Roman  population  ;  the  growth  and  consolidation  of  the 
plebeians ;  and  built  up  his  account  of  it,  out  of  it  and 
upon  it.  His  written  history  thus  corresponds  with  a 
fresh  and  vital  correspondence  with  the  actual  history ; 
with  the  living  process  itself.  In  this  way  he  reproduced 
human  life  in  his  pages,  and  the  student  is  carried  along 
through  the  series  with  all  the  interest  and  charm  of  an 
actor  in  it.  So  sagacious  was  his  intuition  that,  although 
two  thousand  years  further  off  from  them  in  time,  he  has 
unquestionably  so  reconstructed  the  very  facts  of  the 
early  history  of  Rome,  as  to  bring  them  nearer  the  actual 
matter  of  fact,  than  they  appear  in  the  legendary  pages 
of  Livy.  It  was  the  habit  of  his  mind,  both  by  nature 
and  by  an  acquisition  as  minute  as  it  was  vast,  to  look 
at  human  life  as  an  indivisible  process,  and  to  connect 
together  all  the  ages,  empires,  civilizations,  and  literatures, 
of  the  secular  world  by  the  bond  of  a  common  develop- 
ment ;  thus  organizing  the  immense  amount  of  material 
contained  in  human  history  into  a  complete  and  symme- 
trical whole. 

But  slow  and  sequacious  as  the  movements  of  such  an 
organizing  and  thoroughly  historic  mind  were,  and  must 
be  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
aflirm  that  the  historian  Niebuhr  was  one  of  the  most 
vividly  alive  and  profoundly  enthusiastic  minds  in  all 
literary  history.  He  was  not  spared  to  complete  his 
great  work  as  it  lay  in  him  to  have  done,  and  as  he 
would  have  done,  immense  as  it  was,  had  he  lived  to  the 
appointed  age  of  man.  He  left  it  a  fragment.  He  left 
it  a  Torso  which  no  man  can  complete.  But  from  that 
fragment  has  gushed,  as  from  many  living  centres,  all 
the  life  and  power  not  only  of  Roman  history,  but  of  his- 
tory generally,  since  his  day.  It  gave  an  impulse  to  this 
whole  department  which  it  still  continues  to  feel,  besides 


Tin:  HISTORIC  spirit.  143 

reproducing  itself  in  particular  schools  and  particular  in- 
dividuals. It  is  the  work  which  more  tlian  any  other 
one  production,  shaped  the  opinions  of  the  most  vigorous 
and  enthusiastic  of  English  historians,  the  late  Dr.  Ar- 
nold. And  that  serious  spirit  which  we  find  in  the  sci- 
ence itself  since  the  days  of  Niebuhr,  when  compared 
with  the  moral  indifference  characterizing  it  before  his 
day  and  to  a  great  extent  during  his  day,  is  to  be  traced 
to  his  reverent  recognition  of  a  personal  Deity  in  history, 
and  his  deep  belief  in  the  freedom  and  accountability  of 
man. 

But  the  man  himself,  as  well  as  his  works,  was  full  of 
life,  and  he  showed  it  nowhere  more  plainly  than  in  his 
dii'cct  address  to  the  minds  of  his  pupils.  "  When  he 
spoke,"  says  one  of  them,  "  it  always  appeared  as  if  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  thoughts  occurred  to  him,  ob- 
structed his  power  of  communicating  them  in  regular 
order  or  succession.  Nearly  all  his  sentences,  therefore, 
were  anacoluths ;  for,  before  having  finished  one,  he  be- 
gan another,  perpetually  mixing  up  one  thought  with  an- 
other, without  producing  any  one  in  its  complete  form. 
This  peculiarity  was  more  particularly  striking  when  he 
was  laboring  under  any  mental  excitement,  which  occur- 
red the  oftener,  as,  with  his  great  sensitiveness,  he  felt 
that  warmth  of  interest  in  treating  of  the  history  of  past 
ages,  which  we  are  accustomed  to  witness  only  in  dis- 
cussions on  the  political  affairs  of  our  own  time  and 
country."  The  writer,  after  speaking  of  the  difficulty  of 
following  him,  owing  to  his  rapid,  and  it  should  be  ad- 
ded, entirely  extemporaneous  delivery  (for  he  spoke  with- 
out a  scrap  of  paper  before  him),  remarks,  that  "  notwith- 
standing this  deficiency  of  Niebuhr  as  a  lecturer,  there 
was  an  indescribable  charm  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
treated  his  subject ;  the  warmth  of  his  feelings,  the  syni- 


144  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

pathy  which  he  felt  with  the  persons  and  things  he  was 
speaking  of,  his  strong  conviction  of  the  truth  of  what 
he  Was  saying,  his  earnestness,  and,  above  all,  the  vivid- 
ness with  which  he  conceived  and  described  the  charac- 
ters of  the  most  prominent  men,  who  were  to  him  living 
realities,  with  souls,  feelings  and  passions  like  ourselves, 
carried  his  hearers  away,  and  produced  effects  which  are 
usually  the  results  only  of  the  most  powerful  oratory.*  " 

How  different  from  all  this  is  the  impression  which  we 
receive  from  the  mind  of  one  who,  notwithstanding  his 
great  defects,  must  yet  thus  far  be  regarded  as  the  first  of 
English  historians ;  from  the  mind  of  Gibbon.  After  a 
candid  and  full  allowance  of  the  ability  of  that  mind  and 
the  great  value  of  the  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of 
Rome,  it  must  yet  be  said  that  it  was  not  a  vivid  and 
vital  mind,  nor  is  its  product.  The  autobiography  of 
Gibbon,  indeed,  exhibits  considerable  native  liveliness, 
but  the  perusal  of  his  history  does  not  even  suggest  the 
existence  of  such  qualities  as  earnestness  and  enthusiasm. 
One  is  disposed  to  conclude  from  the  picture  which  he 
gives  of  himself,  that  the  historian  had  been  endowed  by 
his  Maker  with  a  more  than  average  share  of  mental 
freshness  and  vitality,  and  most  certainly  if  there  had 
been  in  exercise  enough  of  this  quality  ;  enough  of  the  vis 
vivida  vitcc;  to  have  vivified  his  immense  well-selected  and 
well-arranged  material,  he  would  have  approximated  near- 
er than  he  has  to  the  ideal  of  historical  composition.  But 
there  was  not,  and,  therefore,  it  is,  that,  throughout  the 
whole  of  this  great  work,  there  reigns,  so  far  as  the  hu- 
man and  moral  interest  of  history  is  concerned,  so  far 
as  all  its  higher  religious  problems  are  concerned,  an  ut- 
ter sluggishness,  apathy,  and  lifelessness ;  an  apathy  and 

*  Dr.  Lconhard  Scliuiltz.     Preface  to  Vol.  IV.  of  Nicbuhr's  Rome. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  145 

lifelessness  as  deep,  unvarying,  and  monotonous,  as  if  the 
forces  of  the  period  he  described,  the  principles  of  dechne 
and  decay,  had  passed  over  into  his  own  understanding 
and  made  it  the  theatre  of  their  operations.  We  doubt 
whether  there  is  another  work  in  any  literature  whatever, 
possessing  so  many  substantial  excellences,  and  yet  char- 
acterized by  such  a  total  destitution  of  glowing  inspira- 
tion and  earnest  enthusiasm,  as  the  History  of  the  De- 
cline and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

The  explanation  of  this  fact  will  corroborate  the  truth 
of  the  position,  that  the  g-enuine It/  historic  mind  is  the  only 
truly  living  and  enthusiastic  mind.  Though  nominally 
a  historian,  Gibbon  was  really  utterly  unhistorical  in  his 
spirit.  His  religious  scepticism,  besides  paralyzing  what- 
ever natural  vigor  and  earnestness  of  conception  may  have 
originally  belonged  to  him,  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
regard  the  processes  of  human  life  as  so  many  parts  of  one 
grand  plan  of  the  world  formed  by  one  supreme  presiding 
mind.  History  for  him,  consequently,  had  no  organization 
and  no  moral  significance.  It  was,  therefore,  strictly  speak- 
ing, no  liistory  at  all  for  him ;  no  course  of  development 
with  a  divine  plan  at  the  bottom  of  it  and  a  divine  pur- 
pose at  the  termination  of  it.  It  w^as  neither  continuous  in 
its  nature,  nor  complete  in  its  spirit  and  tendency.  Every- 
thing that  occurred  in  the  world  at  large,  or  among  a 
particular  people,  was  for  his  mind  irreferent,  discontinu- 
ous, and  sporadic.  Not  only  did  he  fail  to  connect  the 
History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire 
with  the  general  history  of  the  race,  or  even  with  the 
general  history  of  Rome,  by  exhibiting  it  in  its  relation 
to  its  antecedents  and  consequents,  but  he  failed  even  to 
detect  the  historic  principle  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the 
particular  jjcriod  itself.  The  giTat  moral  and  political 
causes  of  the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  do 
13 


146  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

not  stand  out  in  bold  and  striking  relief  from  the  im 
mense  erudition  and  imposing  rhetoric  of  that  work. 
The  reflecting  reader,  at  the  close  of  its  perusal,  feels  the 
need  of  something  more  than  a  scenic  representation  of 
the  period;  something  more  than  the  pomp  of  a  panora- 
ma ;  in  order  to  a  knowledge  of  the  deeip  ground  of  all  this 
decline  and  decay.  He  needs,  in  short,  what  Gibbon 
does  not  furnish,  more  of  the  philosophy  of  that  organic 
decline,  drawn  from  a  profounder  view  of  the  nature 
of  man  and  of  human  life,  united  with  a  deeper  insight 
into  the  radical  defect  in  the  political  constitution  of  the 
Roman  empire ;  into  that  germ  of  corruption  which  came 
into  existence  immediately  after  the  subjugation  of  the 
Italian  tribes  was  completed,  and  in  which  the  entire 
millennium  of  decline  and  decay  lay  coiled  up. 

We  have  thus  far  discussed  the  nature  of  the  historic 
vspirit  on  general  grounds.  We  have  mentioned  only 
those  general  characteristics  which  are  matters  of  inter- 
est to  every  cultivated  mind ;  having  reference  chiefly  to 
secular  history  and  general  education.  We  have  now  to 
speak  of  the  importance  of  this  spirit  to  the  theologian, 
and  must,  therefore,  discuss  its  more  special  nature,  with 
a  prevailing  reference  to  Ecclesiastical  History  and  Theo- 
logical Education. 

Before  proceeding  to  the  treatment  of  this  part  of  the 
subject,  it  seems  necessary  to  direct  attention,  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  the  distinguishing  difference  between  Secular 
and  Church  history. 

Our  Lord,  in  the  most  distinct  manner,  and  repeatedly, 
affirms  that  His  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world.  Through- 
out the  Scriptures  the  church  and  the  world  are  opposed 
to  each  other  as  direct  contraries,  mutually  exclusive  and 
expulsive  of  each  other,  so  that  "  all  that  is  in  the  world  is 
not  of  the  Father,  but  is  of  the  world."  There  are,  therefore, 


TFiE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  147 

two  kingdoms,  two  courses  of  development,  two  histo- 
ries, in  the  universal  history  of  man  on  the  globe.  There 
is  the  account  of  the  natural  and  spontaneous  develop- 
ment of  human  nature  as  left  to  itself,  guided  only  by 
the  dictates  of  finite  reason  and  impelled  by  the  determi- 
nation of  the  free,  but  fallen,  human  will,  and  the  im- 
pulses of  human  passion.  And  there  is  the  history  of 
that  supernatural  and  gracious  development  of  human 
nature  which  has  been  begun  and  carried  forward  by 
means  of  a  revelation  from  the  Divine  Mind  made  effec- 
tual by  the  direct  efficiency  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  The 
fact  of  sin,  and  the  fact  of  redemption,  constitute  the 
substance  of  that  great  historic  process  which  is  involv- 
ed in  the  origin,  growth  and  final  triumph  of  the  Chris- 
tian church.  Had  there  been  no  fall  of  man,  there  would 
have  been  but  one  sti-eam  of  history.  The  spontaneou 
development  of  the  human  race  would  have  been  normal 
and  perfect,  and  there  would  have  been  no  such  distinc- 
tion between  the  church  and  world  as  is  reco£:nized  in 
Scripture.  The  race  \vould  not  have  been  broken  apart ; 
one  portion  being  left  to  a  merely  human  and  entirely 
false  development,  and  the  other  portion  being  renovated 
and  started  upon  a  spiritual  and  heavenward  career  by 
the  electing  love  of  God.  But  sin  in  this,  as  in  all  its 
aspects,  is  dissension  and  dismemberment.  The  original 
unity  of  the  race,  so  far  as  a  common  religious  character 
and  a  common  blessed  destinij  are  concerned^  is  destroyed, 
and  the  two  halves  of  one  being,  to  borrow  an  illustra- 
tion from  the  Platonic  myth,  are  now  and  forever  sepa- 
rated. The  original  single  stream  of  human  history  was 
parted  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  became  into  two 
heads,  which  have  flowed  on,  each  in  its  own  channel, 
and  will  continue  to  do  so,  forevermore.  For,  although 
the  church  is  to  encroach  upon  the  world,  in  the  future, 


148  THE     NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

to  an  extent  far  surpassing  anything  that  appears  in  the 
present  and  the  past,  we  know,  from  the  very  best  au- 
thority, that  sin  is  to  be  an  eternal  fact  in  the  universe 
of  God,  and  as  such  must  have  its  own  awful  and 
isolated  development ;  its  own  awful  and  isolated  history. 
_  In  passing,  therefore,  from  secular  to  church  history, 
we  pass  from  the  domain  of  merely  human  and  sinful, 
to  that  of  truly  divine  and  holy,  agencies.  The  subject- 
matter  becomes  extraordinary.  The  basis  of  fact  in  the 
career  of  the  church  is  supernatural  in  both  senses  of  the 
word.  From  the  expulsion  from  Eden  down  to  the  close 
of  miracles  in  the  apostolic  age,  a  positively  miraculous 
intervention  of  Divine  power  lies  under  the  series  of 
events ;  momentarily  withdrawn  and  momentarily  reap- 
pearing, throughout  the  long  line  of  Patriarchal,  Jewish 
and  Apostohc  history  ;  the  very  intermittency  of  the  ac- 
tion indicating,  like  an  Icelandic  Geyser,  the  reality  and 
constant  proximity  of  the  power.  And  if  we  pass  from 
external  events  to  that  inward  change  that  was  con- 
stantly brought  about  in  human  character  by  which  the 
church  was  called  out  from  the  mass  of  men  and  made 
to  live  and  grow  in  the  midst  of  an  ignorant  or  a  culti- 
vated heathenism ;  if  we  pass  from  the  miraculous  to  the 
simply  spiritual  manifestation  of  the  Divine  agency  as  it  is 
seen  in  the  inward  life  of  the  church,  we  find  that  we  are 
in  a  far  higher  sphere  than  that  of  secular  history.  There 
is  now  a  positive  intercommunication  between  the  hu- 
man and  the  Divine  mind,  and  the  development  which 
results  constitutes  a  history  far  profounder,  far  purer  and 
holier,  far  more  encouraging  and  glorious,  than  that  of 
the  natural  man  and  the  secular  world. 

It  is  upon  the  fact  of  this  direct  and  supernatural  com- 
munication of  the  Supreme  mind  to  the  human  mind, 
and  this  direct  agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit  upon  the  hu- 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  149 

man  soul,  that  we  would  take  our  stand  as  the  point  of 
departure  in  the  remainder  of  this  discussion.  In  treat- 
ing of  secular  history,  we  have  regarded  the  unaided  rea- 
son of  man  as  the  source  and  origin  of  the  development. 
We  do  not  find  in  the  history  of  the  world,  as  the  Scrip- 
tural antithesis  of  the  church,  any  evidence  of  any  spe- 
cial and  direct  intercommunication  between  man  and 
God.  We  find  only  the  ordinary  workings  of  the  hu- 
man mind  and  such  products  as  are  confessedly  within 
its  competence  to  originate.  We  can,  indeed,  see  the 
hand  of  an  overruling  Providence  throughout  this  realm, 
employed  chiefly  in  restraining  the  wrath  of  man,  but 
through  the  whole  long  course  of  development  we  see  no 
signs  or  products  of  a  supernatural  and  peculiar  inter- 
ference of  God  in  the  affairs  of  men.  Empires  rise  and 
fall ;  arts  and  sciences  bloom  and  decay  ;  the  poet  dreams 
his  dream  of  the  ideal,  and  the  philosopher  develops 
and  tasks  the  utmost  possibility  of  the  finite  reason-;  and 
still,  so  far  as  its  highest  interests  are  concerned,  the  con- 
dition and  history  of  the  race  remain  substantially  the 
same.  It  is  not  until  a  communication  is  established 
between  the  mind  of  man  and  the  mind  of  God ;  it  is  not 
until  the  Creator  comes  down  by  miracle  and  by  revela- 
tion, by  incarnation  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  tjiat  a  new 
order  of  ages  and  a  new  species  of  history  begins. 

The  Scriptmes,  therefore,  as  the  revelation  of  the 
Eternal  Mind,  take  the  place  of  human  reason  within 
the  sphere  of  church  history.  The  individual  man  sus- 
tains the  same  relation  to  the  Bible,  in  the  sacred  historic 
process,  that  he  does  to  natural  reason  in  the  secular. 
The  theologian  expects  to  find  in  the  history  of  the 
church  that  same  comprehensive  and  approximately 
exhaustive  development  and  realization  of  Scripture 
truth,  which  the  philosopher  hopes  to  find  of  the  finite 

13* 


150  THE     NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

reason  in  the  secular  history  of  the  race.  It  follows,  con- 
sequently, that  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  influence  of 
historical  studies  upon  the  literary  man,  applies  with  full 
force,  when  the  distinguishing  difference  between  secular 
and  sacred  history  has  been  taken  into  account,  to  the 
education  and  culture  of  the  theologian.  The  same 
spirit  will  work  with  the  same  results  in  both  depart- 
ments of  knowledge,  and  the  theologian,  like  the  literary 
man,  will  become,  in  his  own  intellectual  domain,  both 
reverent  and  vigilant ;  both  recipient  and  original ;  both 
deliberate  and  enthusiastic ;  as  his  mind  feels  the  influ- 
ences that  come  off  from  the  history  of  the  Christian 
religion  and  the  Christian  church. 

Without,  therefore,  going  again  over  the  ground  which 
we  have  travelled  in  the  first  part  of  the  discourse,  let  us 
leave  the  general  influences  and  characteristics  of  the 
historic  spirit,  and  proceed  to  consider  some  of  the  most 
important  of  its  specific  influences  within  the  depart- 
ment of  theology  and  upon  theological  education.  And, 
that  we  may  not  be  embarrassed  by  the  attempt  to  make 
use  of  all  the  materials  that  crowd  in  upon  the  mind  on 
all  sides,  and  from  all  parts,  of  this  encyclopaedic  subject, 
let  us  leave  altogether  untouched  the  external  career  of 
the  church,  and  keep  chiefly  in  view  that  most  interest- 
ing and  important  branch  of  the  department  which  is 
denominated  Doctrinal  Church  History. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  a  historic  spirit  within  the  depart- 
ment of  theology  promotes  Scripturality. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  the  distinctive  char- 
acter of  church  history  arises  from  the  special  presence 
and  agency  of  the  Divine  Mind  in  the  world.  Subtract 
that  presence,  and  that  agency,  and  nothing  is  left  but 
the  spontaneous  development  of  the  natural  man  ;  noth- 
ing is  left  but  secular   history.     Divine  revelation,  using 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  151 

the  term  in  its  widest  signification,  to  denote  the  entire 
communication  of  God  to  man  in  the  economy  of  grace, 
is  the  principle  and  germ  of  chm-ch  history.  That  shap- 
ing of  human  events,  and  that  formation  and  moulding 
of  human  character,  which  has  resulted  from  the  coven- 
ant of  redemption,  is  the  substance  of  sacred  history.  The 
church  is  the  concrete  and  realized  plan  of  redemption  ; 
and  what  is  the  plan  of  redemption  but  the  sum-total  of 
revelations  which  have  been  made  to  man  by  the  Jehovah 
of  the  Old  Testament  and  the  Incarnate  Word  of  the 
New,  the  infallible  record  of  which  is  unchangeably  fixed 
in  the  Scriptures  ?  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  true 
and  full  history  of  the  church  of  God  on  earth  will  be 
the  Scriptures  in  the  concrete.  The  plant  is  only  the 
unfolded  germ. 

There  is,  consequently,  no  surer  way  to  fill  systematic 
theology  with  a  Scriptural  substance  than  to  subject  it 
to  the  influence  of  historical  studies.  As  the  theologian 
passes  the  several  ages  of  the  church  in  review,  and 
becomes  acquainted  with  the  results  to  which  the  general 
mind  of  the  church  has  come  in  interpreting  the  Scrip- 
tures, he  runs  little  hazard  of  error  in  regard  to  their  real 
teaching  and  contents.  As  in  the  domain  of  secular  his- 
tory we  found  that  there  was  little  danger  of  missing  the 
true  teachings  of  human  reason,  if  we  collect  them  from 
the  continuous  and  self-defecating  development  of  ages 
and  epochs,  so  in  the  domain  of  sacred  history  we  shall 
find  that  the  real  mind  of  the  Spirit,  the  real  teaching  of 
Scripture,  comes  out  plainer  and  clearer  in  the  general 
gi-owth  and  development  of  the  Christian  mind.  Indeed 
we  may  regard  church  history,  so  far  as  it  is  mental  and 
inward  in  its  nature  ;  so  far  as  it  is  the  record  of  a  mental 
inquiry  into  the  natm'e  of  Christianity  and  the  contents 
of  the  Bible ;  as  being  as  near  to  the  infallibility  of  the 


152         THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF 

written  revelation,  as  anything  that  is  still  imperfect  and 
fallible  can  be.  The  church  is  not  infallible  and  never 
can  be ;  but  it  is  certainly  not  a  very  bold  or  dangerous 
affirmation  to  say  that  the  church,  the  entire  body  of 
Christ,  is  wiser  than  any  one  of  its  members,  and  that 
the  whole  series  of  ages  and  generations  of  believers 
have  penetrated  more  deeply  into  the  substance  of  the 
Christian  religion  and  have  come  nearer  to  an  approxi- 
mate exhaustion  of  Scripture  truth,  than  any  single  age 
or  single  believer  has. 

So  far,  therefore,  as  a  theological  system  contains  his- 
torical elements,  it  is  likely  to  contain  Scriptural  elements. 
So  far  as  its  statements  of  doctrine  coincide  with  those 
of  the  creeds  and  symbols  in  which  the  wise,  the  learned, 
and  the  holy,  of  all  ages  have  embodied  the  results  of 
their  continuous  and  self-correcting  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, so  far  it  may  be  expected  to"  coincide  with  the 
substance  of  inspiration  itself. 

Again,  there  is  no  surer  way  to  imbue  the  theologian 
himself  with  a  Scriptural  spirit  than  to  subject  his  mind 
to  the  full  influence  of  a  course  of  study  in  the  history  of 
the  Christian  religion  and  church.  This  is  one  of  the 
best  means  which  the  individual  mind  can  employ  to 
reach  the  true  end  of  a  theological  education ;  which  is 
to  get  within  the  circle  of  inspired  minds  and  see  the 
truth  exactly  as  they  saw  it.  We  believe,  as  the  church 
has  always  believed,  that  the  inspired  writers  were 
qualified  and  authorized  to  speak  upon  the  subject  of 
religion  as  no  other  human  minds  have  been.  They 
were  the  subjects  of  an  illumination  clearer  and  brighter 
than  that  of  the  purest  Christian  experience ;  and  of  a 
revelation  that  put  them  in  possession  of  truths  that  are 
absolutely  beyond  the  ken  of  the  wisest  human  mind.  — 
Within  that  inspired  circle,  therefore,  there  was  a  body 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  153 

of  knowledge  intrinsically  inaccessible  to  the  Innnan 
mind;  beyond  the  reach  of  its  subtlest  investigation,  or 
its  purest  self-development.  If  those  supernaturally  taught 
minds  had  been  prevented  from  fixing  their  knowledge  in 
a  written  form  ;  or  if  the  written  revelation  had  perished 
like  the  lost  books  of  Livy;  the  human  mind  of  the 
nineteenth  century  would  have  known  no  more  upon 
moral  and  religious  subjects,  for  substance,  than  the 
human  mind  of  a  Plato  or  Aristotle  knew  twenty-two 
centuries  ago.  For  he  must  have  an  extravagant  esti- 
mate of  the  inherent  capacities  of  the  finite  mind,  who 
supposes  that  the  rolling  round  of  two  millenniums,  or 
of  ten,  would  have  witnessed  in  any  one  individual  case, 
a  more  central,  or  a  more  defecated,  development  of  the 
pm-e  rationality  of  mere  man  than  was  witnessed  in 
Aristotle.  And  he  must  have  a  very  ardent  belief  in  the 
omnipotence  of  the  finite,  who  supposes,  that,  without 
that  communication  of  truth  and  of  spirit ;  of  light  and 
of  life ;  which  God  in  Christ  has  made  to  the  race,  ages 
upon  ages  of  merely  spontaneous  and  secular  history 
would  have  produced  a  more  beautiful  dcveloj)ment  of 
the  human  imagination  than  appears  in  the  Grecian  Art 
and  Literature,  or  a  more  profound  development  of  the 
human  reason  than  appears  in  the  Grecian  Philosophy 
and  the  Grecian  Ethics. 

The  Scriptures  have,  accordingly,  been  the  source  of 
religious  knowledge  and  progress  for  the  Christian,  as 
antithetic  to  the  secular,  mind,  and  will  continue  to  be, 
until  they  are  superseded  by  some  other  and  fuller  reve- 
lation in  another  mode  of  being  than  that  of  earth.  It 
has,  consequently,  been  the  aim  and  endeavor  of  the 
church  in  all  ages,  to  be  Scriptural ;  to  work  itself  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  written  revelation ;  to  stand  upon 
the  very  same  point  of  view  with  the  few  insj^ired  minds, 


154  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

and  see  objects  precisely  as  they  saw  them.  But  this, 
though  possible  and  a  duty,  is  no  easy  task,  as  the  whole 
history  of  Christian  doctrines  shows.  Truth  in  the  Scrip- 
tures is  full  and  entire.  The  Scriptural  idea  is  never 
defective,  but  contains  all  the  elements.  Hence  its  very 
perfection  and  completeness  is  an  obstacle  to  its  full 
apprehension.  It  is  difficult  for  the  human  mind  to  take 
in  the  whole  great  thought.  It  is  often  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult for  the  human  mind  oppressed,  first,  by  the  vastness 
and  mystery  of  the  revealed  truth,  and,  secondly,  by  its 
own  singular  tendency  to  one-sided  and  imperfect  per- 
ception, to  gather  the  full  idea  from  the  artless  and 
unsystematized  contents  of  Scripture,  and  then  state  it 
in  the  imperfect  language  of  man.  The  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  for  example,  is  fully  revealed  in  the  Bible.  All 
1he  elements  of  that  great  mystery  ;  the  whole  truth  res- 
pecting the  real  triune  nature  of  God,  may  be  found  in 
that  book.  But  the  elements  are  uncombined  and 
unexpanded,  and  hence  one  source  of  the  heresies  respect- 
ing this  doctrine.  Arius  and  Sabellius  both  appealed  to 
Scripture.  Neither  of  them  took  the  position  of  the 
infidel.  Each  acknowledged  the  authority  of  the  written 
word,  and  endeavored  to  support  his  position  from  it. — 
But  in  these  instances  the  individual  mind  merely  picked 
up  Scriptural  elements  as  they  lie  scattered  upon  the 
page  and  in  the'  letter  of  Scripture,  and,  without  com- 
bining them  with  others  that  lie  just  as  plainly  upon  the 
very  same  pages,  moulded  them  into  a  defective,  and 
therefore  erroneous,  statement.  Heresy  is  individual 
and  not  historic  in  its  nature. 

Now  it  is  the  characteristic  of  the  general  mind  of  the 
church  ;  of  the  historic  Christian  mind  ;  that  it  reproduces 
in  its  intuition,  and  in  its  statement,  the  complex  and 
complete  Scriptural  idea.     So  far  as  it  has  any  intuition 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  155 

at  all,  it  sees  all  the  sides ;  so  far  as  it  makes  any  state- 
ment at  all,  it  brings  into  it  all  the  fundamentals.  By 
this  is  not  meant  that  even  the  mind  of  the  chm'ch  has 
perfected  the  expansion  of  Scripture  elements  and  made 
the  fullest  possible  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity.  There  may,  possibly,  be  a  further  exhaustion 
of  the  contents  of  revelation  in  this  direction.  There 
may,  possibly,  be  a  statement  of  this  doctrine  that  will 
be  yet  fuller ;  still  closer  up  to  the  Scriptural  matter ; 
than  that  one  which  the  church  has  generally  accepted 
since  the  date  of  the  Councils  of  Nice  and  Constanti- 
nople. But  there  will  never  be  a  form  of  statement  that 
will  flatly  contradict  this  form,  or  that  will  add  any  new 
fundamentals  to  it.  All  that  is  new  and  different  must 
be  in  the  way  of  expansion  and  not  of  addition ;  in  the 
way  of  development  and  not  of  denial.  A  closer  study 
of  the  teachings  of  Scripture,  and  a  deeper  reflection 
upon  them,  may  carry  the  theological  mind  further  along 
on  the  line,  but  will  give  it  no  diagonal  or  retrograde 
movement. 

Now  is  it  not  perfectly  plain  that  the  close  and 
thorough  study  of  this  continuous  and  self-correcting 
endeavor  of  the  Christian  church  to  enucleate  the  real 
meaning  of  Scripture  ;  an  endeavor  which  has  been  put 
forth  by  the  wisest,  the  most  reverent,  and  the  holiest, 
minds  in  its  history,  tasking  their  own  powers  to  the 
utmost,  and  invoking  and  receiving  Divine  illumination, 
during  the  whole  of  the  process ;  an  endeavor  which  has 
to  a  great  extent  formed  and  fixed  the  religious  experi- 
ence of  ages  and  generations,  by  its  results  embodied  in 
the  creeds  and  symbols  of  the  church  :  a  series  of  mental 
constructions,  which,  even  if  we  contemplate  only  their 
human  characteristics,  their  scientific  coherence  and  sys- 
tematic compactness,  are  more  than  worthy  to  be  phiced 


156  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

side  by  side  with  the  best  dialectics  of  the  secular  mind  , 
is  it  not  perfectly  plain,  we  say,  that  the  close  and  tho- 
rough study  of  such  a  strenuous  endeavor,  as  this  has 
been,  to  reach  the  inmost  heart  and  fibre  of  Scripture, 
will  tend  irresistibly  to  render  the  theologian  Scriptural 
in  head  and  in  heart  ?  May  we  not  expect  that  such  a 
student  will  be  intensely  Scriptural  ?  Will  not  this  dis- 
tinct and  thorough  knowledge  of  revelation  be  so  wrought 
intg  his  mental  texture  that  he  will  see  and  judge  of 
everything  through  this  medium  ?  Will  he  not  have  so 
thought  in  that  same  range  and  region  in  which  his 
inspired  teachers  thought,  that  doubt  and  perplexity  in 
regard  to  Divine  revelation  would  be  nearly  as  impossible 
for  him,  as  for  Isaiah  while  under  the  Divine  afflatus,  or 
for  Paul  when  in  the  third  heavens  ?  To  borrow  an 
illustration  from  the  kindred  science  of  Law  :  if  it  is  the 
effect  of  the  continued  and  thoughtful  study  of  Law 
Reports  and  Political  Constitutions  and  Commentaries 
upon  Political  Constitutions  ;  a  body  of  literature  which, 
as  it  originates  out  of  the  organic  idea  of  law,  breathes 
the  purest  spirit  of  the  legal  reason ;  if  it  is  the  effect  of 
such  study  to  render  the  individual  mind  legal  and  judi- 
cial in  its  tone  and  temper,  must  it  not  be  the  effect  of 
the  study  of  that  body  of  symbolic  literature  which  has 
come  slowly  but  consecutively  into  existence  through  the 
endeavor  of  the  theological  mind  to  reach  a  perfect 
understanding  of  Scripture,  to  render  the  individual  mind 
Scriptural  in  its  tone  and  temper  ? 

II.  And  this  leads  us  to  say,  in  the  second  place,  that 
a  historic  spirit  in  the  theologian,  induces  a  correct  esti- 
mate of  Creeds  and  Systematic  Theology. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  in  the  present 
condition  of  the  theological  world  is  a  revived  interest  in 
the  department  of  church  history.     This  interest  has  been 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  157 

slowly  increasing  for  the  last  lialf  century,  and  promises 
to  become  a  leading  interest  for  some  time  to  come.  In 
Germany,  in  America,  and  in  England,  scholars  and 
thinking  men  are  turning  their  attention  away,  some- 
what, from  the  purely  secular  history  of  mankind,  to  that 
more  solemn  and  momentous  career  which  a  part  of  the 
human  family  have  been  running  for  nearly  six  thousand 
years.  They  have  become  aware  that  the  history  of  the 
church  of  God  is  a  peculiar  movement  that  has  Ijeen 
silently  going  on  in  the  heart  of  the  race  from  the  begin- 
ning of  time,  and  which,  while  it  has  not  by  any  means 
left  the  secular  historic  processes  untouched  and  unaf- 
fected, has  yet  kept  on  in  its  own  solitary  and  sublimo 
line  of  direction.  They  are  now  disposed  to  look  and 
see  how  and  where 

*    *     the  sacred  river  ran 
Through  caverus  measureless  to  man 
Down  to  the  sunlit  sea. 

But  it  would  be  an  error  to  suppose  that  this  interest 
has  been  awakened  merely  or  mainly  by  the  external  his- 
tory of  the  Christian  Church.  "  The  battles,  sieges,  for- 
tunes it  hath  passed  ; "  its  conflicts  with  persecuting  Pa- 
ganism, Mohammedanism,  and  Romanism ;  its  influence 
upon  art,  upon  literature  and  science,  upon  society  and 
government ;  these  are  not  the  charm  which  is  now 
drawing  as  by  a  spell  the  best  thinking  of  Christendom 
towards  church  history.  It  is  not  the  secular  and  worldly 
elements  in  this  history  into  which  the  mind  of  the  time 
most  desires  to  look.  The  great  march  of  profane  his- 
tory brings  to  view  a  pomp  and  prodigality  of  such  ele- 
ments that  has  already  dulled  and  satiated  the  tired  sen- 
sibilities. Thinking  minds  now  desire  to  look  into  the 
distinctively  supernatural  elements  in  this  historic  pro- 

14 


158 


cess ;  to  see  if  it  really  has,  as  it  claims  to  have,  a  direct 
connection  with  the  Creator  of  the  race  and  the  Author 
of  the  human  mind.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  revived 
interest  in  this  department  of  knowledge  has  shown  it- 
self most  powerfully  and  influentially  in  investigating  the 
origin  and  nature  of  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  as  they 
are  found  speculatively  in  creeds  and  symbols,  and  prac- 
tically in  the  Christian  consciousness.  The  mind  oi 
Germany,  for  example,  after  ranging  over  the  whole  field 
of  cultivated  heathenism,  and  sounding  the  lowest  depths 
of  the  finite  reason,  in  a  vain  search  for  that  absolute 
truth  in  which  alone  the  human  soul  can  rest,  has  be- 
taken itself  to  the  domain  of  Christian  revelation  and 
Christian  history.  Its  interest  in  Greek  and' Roman  cul- 
ture, in  Mediaeval  Art,  and  in  its  own  speculative  sys- 
tems, has  given  way  to  a  deeper  interest  in  the  Christian 
religion ;  in  some  instances  with  a  clear  perception,  in 
others  with  a  dim  intimation,  that,  if  the  truth  which  the 
human  mind  needs,  is  not  to  be  found  here,  the  last  re- 
source has  failed ;  and  that  then 


The  pillared  firmament  is  rottenness 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble. 


This  revived  interest  in  church  history,  therefore,  is  in 
reality  a  search  after  truth,  rather  than  after  a  mere  dra- 
matic scene  or  spectacle.  The  mind  of  the  time  is  anx- 
ious to  understand  that  revealed  doctrinal  system^  which 
it  now  sees,  has,  from  the  beginning,  been  the  "  rock  "  on 
which  the  church  of  God  has  been  founded,  and  the 
"  quarry  "  out  of  which  it  has  been  built.  Knowing  this, 
it  believes  it  will  then  have  the  key  to  the  process. 
Knowing  this,  it  believes  it  will  know  the  whole  secret ; 
the  secret  of  that  charmed  life  which  has  borne  the  church 


THE    HISTORIC    SPfRIT.  159 

of  God  through  all  the  mutations  and  extinctions  of  sec- 
ular history,  and  that  unearthly  life  which  in  all  ages  has 
secured  to  the  believer  a  serene  or  an  ecstatic  passage 
into  the  unknown  and  dreadful  future. 

Now  this  interest  in  a  doctrinal  system,  which  thus  lies 
at  the  bottom  of  this  general  interest  in  church  history, 
will  be  shared  by  the  individual  student.  He,  too,  can- 
not stop  with  the  scene,  the  spectacle,  the  drama.  He, 
too,  cannot  stop  with  those  characteristics  which  ecclesi- 
astical history  has  in  common  with  secular,  but  will  pass 
on  to  those  which  are  distinctive  and  peculiar.  For  him, 
too,  the  history  of  a  single  mind,  like  that  of  Augustine 
or  Anselra ;  or  of  a  single  doctrine,  like  that  of  the 
Atonement  or  of  the  Trinity ;  will  have  a  charm  and 
fruitfulness  not  to  be  found  in  the  entire  rise  of  the 
worldly  Papacy,  or  in  centuries  of  merely  external  and 
earthly  movement  like  the  Crusades.  The  whole  influ- 
ence of  his  studies  in  this  direction  will  be  spiritual  and 
spiritualizing. 

But,  without  enlarging  upon  the  general  nature  of  the 
estimate  which  the  historic  spirit  puts  upon  the  internal 
as  com])ared  with  the  external  history  of  the  church,  let 
us  notice  two  particulars  which  fall  under  this  head. 

1.  Notice,  first,  the  interest  awakened  by  historical 
studies  in  the  creeds  and  symbols  of  the  Christian  church 
as  containing  the  Philosophy/  of  Christianit//. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  symbolic  literature  of  the 
Christian  church  as  a  growth  out  of  Scripture  soil ;  as  a 
fruitage  full  of  the  flavor  and  juices  of  its  germ.  A 
Christian  creed  is  not  the  product  of  the  individual,  or  the 
general,  human  mind  evolving  out  of  itself  those  truths 
of  natural  reason  and  natural  religion  which  are  connate 
and  inborn.  It  is  not  the  self-development  of  the  human 
mind,  but  the  development  of  Scripture   matter.     The 


160  THE     NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

Christian  mind,  as  we  have  seen,  is  occupied,  from  age 
to  age,  with  an  endeavor  to  fathom  the  depths  of  Divine 
revelation;  to  make  the  fullest  possible  expression  and  ex- 
pansion of  all  the  truths  that  have  been  communicated 
from  God  to  man.  This  endeavor  necessarily  assumes  a 
scientific  form.  The  practical  explanation,  illustration,  and 
application,  is  going  on  continually  in  the  popular  repre- 
sentations of  the  pulpit  and  the  sermon,  but  this  cannot 
satisfy  all  the  wants  of  the  church.  Simultaneously  with 
this  there  is  a  constant  effort  to  obtain  a  still  more  scien- 
tific apprehension  of  Sciipture  and  make  a  still  more  full 
and  self-consistent  statement  of  its  contents.  The  Chris- 
tian mind,  as  well  as  the  secular,  is  scientific  ;  has  a  scien- 
tific feeling,  and  scientific  wants.  A  creed  is  as  necessary 
to  a  theologian,  as  a  philosophical  system  is  to  the  secu- 
lar student. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  philosophy,  by  which  is 
meant  the  rationality,  of  the  Christian  rehgion,  is  to  be 
found  in  these  creeds  and  symbols.  For  reasonableness 
and  self-consistence  are  qualities  not  to  be  carried  into 
Christianity  from  without,  as  if  they  were  not  to  be 
found  in  it,  but  to  be  brought  out  from  within,  because 
they  belong  to  its  intrinsic  nature.  The  philosophy,  that 
is,  the  rational  necessity,  of  the  Christian  religion,  is  not 
an  importation  but  an  evolution.  This  religion  is  to  be 
taken  just  as  it  is  given  in  the  Scriptures ;  just  as  it  re- 
appears in  the  close  and  systematic  statement  of  the 
creeds  ;  and  its  intrinsic  truth  and  reasonableness  evinced 
by  what  it  furnishes  itself.  For  whoever  shows  the  in- 
ward necessity  and  reasonableness  of  a  Doctrine  of 
Christianity  does  by  the  very  act  and  fact  show  the  har- 
mony of  philosophy  and  religion.  Whoever  takes  a  doc- 
trine of  Christianity  and  without  anxiously  troubling  him- 
self with  the  tenets  of  this  or  that  particular  philosophical 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  161 

system,  derives  out  of  the  very  elements  of  the  doctrine 
and  the  very  terms  of  the  statement  itself,  a  reasonableness 
that  irresistibly  commends  itself  to  the  spontaneous  rea- 
son and  instinctive  judgment  of  universal  man,  by  this 
very  process  demonstrates  the  inifjard,  central,  unity  of 
faith  and  reason.  Instead,  therefore,  of  setting  the  two 
sciences  over  against  each  other  and  endeavoring,  by 
modifications  upon  one  or  both  sides,  to  bring  about  the 
adjustment,  the  theologian  should  take  the  Christian  sys- 
tem precisely  as  it  is  given  in  Scripture,  in  all  its  com- 
prehension, depth,  and  strictness,  and  without  being 
diverted  by  any  side  references  to  particular  philosophi- 
cal schools,  simply  exhibit  the  intrinsic  truthfulness,  ra- 
tionality, and  necessity,  of  the  system.  In  this  way  he 
establishes  the  position,  that  philosophy  and  revelation 
are  harmonious,  in  a  manner  that  admits  of  no  contra- 
diction. The  gi'eater  necessarily  includes  the  less.  When 
the  theologian  has  demonstrated  the  inward  necessity  of 
Christianity,  out  of  its  own  self-sufficient  and  indepen- 
dent rationality,  his  demonstration  is  perfect.  For  rea- 
son cannot  be  contrary  to  reason.  A  rational  necessity 
anyAvhere,  is  a  philosophical  necessity  everywhere. 

The  correctness  of  this  method  of  finding  and  estab- 
lishing the  rationality  of  Christianity,  is  beginning  to  be 
acknowledged  in  that  country  where  the  conflict  between 
reason  and  revelation  has  been  hottest.  It  begins  to  be 
Been  that  the  harmony'  between  philosophy  and  Chris- 
tianity is  not  to  be  brought  about,  by  first  assuming  that 
the  infallibility  is  on  the  side  of  the  human  reason ;  and 
that,  too,  as  it  appears  in  a  single  and  particular  philo- 
sophical system  ;  and  then  insisting  that  all  the  adjust- 
ment, conformity,  and  coalescence,  shall  be  on  the  side 
of  the  Divine  revelation.  It  begins  to  be  seen  that  phi- 
losophy is   in   reality  an    abstract   and   universal  term, 

14* 


162  THE    NATURE,    AND    .iv  PLnt^N^c,    0^^ 

which,  by  its  very  etymology,  denotes,  not  that  it  has 
already  attained  and  now  possesses  the  truth,  but  that  it 
is  seeking  for  it.*  It  begins  to  be  seen  that  both  Aris- 
totle and  Bacon  were  right  in  calling  it  an  organon ;  an 
instrument  for  getting  at  the  truth,  and  neither  the  truth 
itself  nor  even  its  containing  source.f  It  begins  to  be 
seen  that  philosophy  is  only  another  term  for  rationality, 
and  that  to  exhibit  the  philosophy  of  a  department,  like 
religion,  or  history,  or  philosophy,  or  natural  science,  is 
simply  to  exhibit  the  real  and  reasonable  truth  that  is  in 
it.  It  begins  to  be  seen,  consequenily,  that  each  branch 
of  knowledge,  each  subject  of  investigation,  must  be  treat- 
ed genetically  in  order  to  be  treated  philosophically ; 
must  be  allowed  to  furnish  its  own  matter,  make  its  own 
statements,  out  of  which,  and  not  out  of  what  may  be 
carried  over  into  it  from  some  other  quarter,  its  accept- 
ance or  its  rejection  by  the  human  mind  should  be  de- 
termined. 

We  are  aware  that  the  barrenness  of  those  later  systems 
of  speculative  philosophy,  with  which  the  German  mind 
has  been  so  intensely  busied  for  the  last  fifty  years,  has 
been  one  great  means  of  bringing  it  back  to  this  moderate 
and  true  estimate  of  the  nature  and  functions  of  philoso- 
phy ;  but  this  revived  interest  in  the  history  of  Christianity 

*  The  love  of  wisdom,  implies  a  present  seeking  for  it. 

t  Kant,  says  William  Humboldt,  did  not  so  much  teach  philosophy,  as  how 
to  philosophize.     Correspondence  with  Schiller  :  Vorerimrerung. 

It  is  the  greatest  merit  of  Schleiermacher  that  he  saw  and  asserted  the 
independent  and  self-subsistent  position  of  Christian  theology  in  relation  to 
philosophical  systems.  If  he  had  sought  the  sources  of  this  theology  more 
in  the  objective  revelation  and  less  in  the  subjective  Christian  conscious- 
ness, he  would  have  accomplished  more  than  he  has  towards  evincing  the 
harmony  of  the  two  sciences,  while  his  own  system  would  have  had  more 
agreement  than  it  now  has  with  the  general  theology  of  the  Christian 
church. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  163 

and  profoundcr  study  of  its  symbols,  has  also  contribut- 
ed, greatly,  to  produce  this  disposition  to   let  revealed 
religion   stand   or  fall  upon   its   own   merits.     For  this 
study  has  disclosed  the  fact  that  it  has  philosophical  and 
scientific  merits  of  its  own ;  that,  in  the  unsystematized 
statements  and  simple  but  prolific  teachings  of  the  Bible, 
there  lies  the  substance  of  a  system  deeper  and  wider  and 
loftier  than  the  whole   department  of  philosophy,  and 
that  this  substance  has  actually  been  expanded  and  com 
bined  by  the  historic  mind  of  the  church  into  a  series  of 
doctrines  respecting  the  nature-  of  God  and  man  and  the 
universe  with  their  mutual  relations,  wdth  which  the  cor- 
responding statements  upon  the  same  subjects,  of  the 
Greek  Theism  or  the  German   Pantheism  cannot  com- 
pare for  a  moment.     Probably  nothing  has  done  more  to 
exhibit  the  Christian  system  in  its  true  nature  and  pro- 
portions, and  thereby  to  render  it  grand  and  venerable  to 
the  modern  scientific  mind,  than  this  history  of  its  origin 
and  formation.     As  the  scientific  man  studies  the  arti- 
cles of  a  creed,  which  one  of  the  most  naturally  scientific 
minds  of  the  race,  aided  by  the  wisdom  of  predecessors 
and  contemporaries,  derived  from  the  written  revelation ; 
as  the  rigorous   and  dialectic  man  follows  Athanasius 
down  into  those  depths  of  the  Divine  nature,  which  yawn 
like  a  gulf  of  darkness  before  the  unaided  human  mind ; 
if  he  finds  nothing  to  love  and  adore,  he  finds  something 
to  respect ;  if  he  finds  no  food  for  his  affections,  he  finds 
some   matter  for   his   thoughts.      Here,  too,  is   science. 
Here,  too,  is  the    profound  intuition   expressed   in   the 
clear   but   inadequate    conception ;    the   most   tliorough 
unions,  guarded  against  the  slightest  confusions ;  analy- 
sis and   synthesis ;    opposite    conceptions    reconciled    in 
their  higher  and  original  unities ;  in   short,  all  the  forms 
of  science,  filled  up  in  this  instance  as  in  no  other,  with 


164  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

the  truth  of  eternal  necessary  fact  and  eternal  necessary 
being. 

And  this  same  kind  of  influence,  only  in  much  greater 
degree,  is  exerted  by  historical  studies  upon  the  mind  of 
the  theologian.  As  he  becomes  better  acquainted  with 
the  history  of  Christian  doctrines,  he  becomes  more  dis- 
posed to  find  his  philosophy  of  human  nature  and  of  the 
Divine  nature  in  them,  rather  than  in  human  systems. 
As  he  studies  the  development  of  that  great  doctrine,  the 
doctrine  of  sin,  he  becomes  convinced,  if  he  was  not  be- 
fore, that  the  powers,  and  capacities,  and  possible  des- 
tiny, of  the  human  soul,  have  received  their  most  pro- 
found examination  within  the  sphere  of  Christian  theol- 
ogy. As  he  studies  the  history  of  that  other  great  doc- 
trine, the  doctrine  of  the  atonement,  he  sees  plainly  that 
the  ideas  of  law  and  justice  and  government,  of  guilt  and 
punishment  and  expiation ;  ideas  that  are  the  life  and 
lifeblood  of  the  Aristotelian  ethics,  the  best  and  purest 
ethical  system  which  the  human  reason  was  able  to  con- 
struct ;  that  these  great  parent  ideas  show  truest,  fullest, 
largest,  and  clearest,  by  far,  within  the  consciousness  of 
the  Christian  mind. 

What  surer  method,  therefore,  of  making  his  mind 
groiv  into  the  philosophy  of  Christianity  can  the  theolo- 
gian employ,  than  the  historic  method  ?  In  what  better 
way  can  he  arm  himself  for  the  contest  with  ignorant  or 
with  cultivated  scepticism,  than  by  getting  possession, 
through  the  reproductive  study  of  dogmatic  history,  of 
the  exact  contents  of  Scripture  as  expanded  and  system- 
atized by  the  consentaneous  and  connected  studies  of 
the  Fathers,  the  Reformers,  and  the  Divines,  the  Coun- 
cils, the  Synods,  and  the  Assemblies,  of  the  Church  uni- 
versal ? 

2.  Secondly,  notice  the  interest  awakened  by  histori- 


THK    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  165 

cal  studies  in  the  creeds  and  symbols  of  the  Christian 
church  as  marks  of  development  and  jirogress  in  theol- 
ogy- 

If  we  have  truly  enunciated  the  idea  of  history,  in  the 
first  part  of  tliis  discourse,  it  follows  that  all  g-enuine  de- 
velopment is  a  hislorieal  development,  and  all  true  pro- 
gress is  a  historical  progress.  For  the  true  history  of 
anything  is  the  account  of  its  development  according  to 
its  true  idea  and  necessary  law.  The  history  of  a  na- 
tural object,  like  a  crystal,  for  example,  is  the  account  of 
its  rigorously  geometric  collection  and  upbuilding  about 
a  nucleus.  Crystalhzation  is  a  iiecessary  process,  for  it  is 
a  petrified  geometry.  The  history  of  a  tree  is  the  ac- 
count of  its  spontaneous  and  inevitable  evolution  out  of 
a  germ.  The  process  itself,  in  both  of  these  instances,  is 
predetermined  and  fixed.  The  account  of  the  process, 
therefore,  if  it  is  exactly  conformed  to  the  actual  matter 
of  fact,  has  a  fixed  and  predetermined  character  also. 
For,  if  nature  herself  sfocs  forward  in  a  straiorht  and  unde- 
viating  line,  the  history  of  nature  must  follow  on  after, 
and  tread  in  her  very  and  exactest  footsteps.  Hence, 
true  legitimate  history,  of  any  kind,  is  neither  arbitrary  nor 
capricious.  It  corresponds  to  real  fact,  and  real  fact  is 
the  process  of  real  nature.  The  matter  and  method  of 
nature,  therefore,  dictate  the  matter  and  method  of  the 
history  of  nature. 

And  tlie  same  holds  true,  when  we  pass  from  history 
in  the  sphere  of  nature,  to  history  in  the  realm  of  mind 
and  spirit.  The  matter  and  method  of  a  spiritual  idea 
dictate  the  matter  and  method  of  the  unfolding,  and,  con- 
sequently, of  the  history,  of  that  idea.  In  the  case  now 
under  discussion,  the  real  nature  and  inward  structure  of 
Christianity  determine  what  does,  and  what  does  not, 
belong  to  its  true  historical  development.     Tlie  true  his- 


166  THE  NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE.  OF 

tory  of  Christianity,  therefore,  is  the  history  of  true  Chris 
tianity.*  The  church  historian  is,  indeed,  obliged  to  take 
into  account  the  deviations  from  the  true  Scriptural  idea, 
because,  unlike  the  naturalist,  he  is  within  the  sphere  of 
freedom,  and  of  false  development,  and  because  redemp- 
tion itself  is  a  mixed  process  of  dying  to  sin  and  living 
to  righteousness.  But  he  notices  the  deviations  not  for 
the  purpose,  it  should  be  carefully  observed,  of  letting 
them  make  up  part  of  the  true  and  normal  history  of 
Scriptural  Christianity.  The  church  historian  is  obliged 
to  watch  the  rise  and  growth  of  heresies,  not  surely  be- 
cause they  constitute  an  integrant  part  of  the  legitimate 
development  and  true  history  of  Scripture  truth.  The 
account  of  a  heresy  has  only  a  negative  historical  value. 
All  the  positive  and  genuine  history  of  Christian  doc- 
trine is  to  be  made  up  out  of  that  correct  apprehension 
and  unfolding  which  Scripture  has  received  from  the 
Catholic  as  antithetic  to  the  Heretical  mind.  Tempo- 
rary departures  from  the  real  nature  of  Scripture  truth, 
and  deductions  from  it  that  are  illegitimate,  may  pos- 
sibly have  contributed  to  a  return  to  a  deeper  and  clearer 
knowledge  of  revelation  on  the  part  of  some  few  minds,  ^ 
and  have  unquestionably  elicited  a  more  full  and  com- 
prehensive statement  and  defence  of  Christianity  on  the 
part  of  others,  and  in  this  way  the  heresies  that  appear 
all  along  the  line  of  church  history,  throw  light  upon  the 

*  The  reader  will  notice  the  value  of  the  qualifying  adjective  here.  The 
term  history  is  used  in  two  senses;  a  general  and  a  special.  In  the  former 
sense,  it  denotes  all  that  occurred,  right  or  wrong,  normal  or  abnormal.  In 
the  latter  sense,  in  whicli  alone  it  is  employed  above,  it  denotes  only  that 
which  ought  to  occur.  It  is  the  proper  function  of  the  philosophic  historian 
of  the  Christian  religion  and  cliurch,  to  reduce  the  general  to  the  special 
history,  by  throwing  out  of  the  former  all  that  is  miscellaneous  and  hetero- 
geneous, and  retaining  only  that  which  accords  with  the  supernatural  law 
and  principle  that  constitutes  the  basis  of  sacred,  as  distinguished  from  sec- 
ular, history. 


THK    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  167 

rue  course  of  doclrinal  drvelopmiMit  and  help  to  bring 
out  the  true  history.  But  these  heretical  processes  them- 
selves, cannot  be  regarded  as  integrant  and  necessary 
parts  of -the  great  historic  process,  any  more  than  the  dis- 
eases of  the  human  body  can  be  regarded,  equally  with 
the  healthy  processes  of  growth,  as  the  normal  develop- 
ment of  the  organism.  Nosology  is  not  a  chapter  in 
physiology. 

It  follows,  consequently,  that  the  true  and  proper  his- 
tory of  Christianity  will  exhibit  a  true  and  proper  theo- 
logical progress.  It  will  show  that  the  Scripture  germ 
implanted  by  God,  has  been  slowly  but  con*ectly  unfold- 
ing in  the  doctrine  and  science  of  the  church.  We  can- 
not grant  that  historical  theology  is  anti-scriptural  and 
radically  wrong ;  that  the  Bible  has  had  no  true  and  le- 
gitimate apprehension  in  the  ages  and  generations  of 
believers.  There  has  been,  notwithstanding  all  the  at- 
tacks of  infidelity  from  without,  and  controversies  from 
within,  a  substantial  agreement,  and  a  steady  advance, 
in  understanding  the  written  revelation.  This  is  very 
plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  history  of  doctrines,  and  from  this 
we  may  draw  the  most  forcible  proofs  and  illustrations. 
Let  any  one  compare  the  first  with  the  latest  Christian 
creed,  and  he  will  see  the  development  which  the  Scripture 
mustard-seed  has  undergone.  Let  any  one  place  the 
Apostles'  creed  beside  that  of  the  Westminster  Assem- 
bly, and  see  what  a  vast  expansion  of  revealed  truth  has 
taken  place.  The  former  was  all  that  the  mind  of  the 
church  in  that  age  of  infancy  was  able  to  eliminate  and 
systematize  out  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and  this  simple  state- 
ment w^as  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  imperfectly  developed 
scientific  wants  of  the  early  church.  The  latter  creed 
was  what  the  mind  of  the  church  was  able  to  construct  out 
of  the  elements  of  the  very  same  written  revelation,  afte/* 


168  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

fifteen  hundred  years  of  study  and  reflection  upon  them. 
The  "  words,"  the  doctrinal  elements,  of  Scripture,  are 
"  spirit  and  life,"  and  hence,  like  all  spirit  and  all  life,  are 
capable  of  expansion.  Upon  them  the  historic  Christian 
mind,  age  after  age,  has  expended  its  best  reflection,  and 
now  the  result  is  an  enlarged  and  systematized  statement 
such  as  the  early  church  could  not  have  made,  and  did 
not  need. 

Compare,  again,  the  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  in  the  Apostles'  creed  with  that  in  the  Nicene 
creed.  The  erroneous  and  defective  statements  of  Arius 
compelled  the  orthodox  mind  to  a  more  profound  reflec- 
tion upon  the  matter  of  Scripture,  and  the  result  was  a 
creed  in  which  the  implication  and  potentiality  of  revela- 
tion was  so  far  explicated  and  evolved  as  to  present  a 
distinct  and  unequivocal  denial  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
created  Son  of  God.  But,  besides  this  negative  value, 
this  systematic  construction  of  the  Scripture  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity  has  a  great  positive  worth.  It  opens  before 
the  human  mind  the  great  abyss  of  the  Divine  nature ; 
and,  though  it  cannot  impart  to  the  finite  intelligence 
that  absolutely  full  and  perfect  knowledge  of  the  God- 
head which  only  God  himself  can  have,  it  yet  furnishes 
a  form  of  apprehension  which  accords  with  the  real 
nature  of  God,  and  will,  therefore,  preserve  the  mind  that 
accepts  it  from  both  the  Dualistic  and  the  Pantheistic 
ideas  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Abstruse  and  dialectic  as 
that  creed  has  appeared  to  some  minds  and  some  ages 
in  the  Christian  church ;  little  connection  as  it  has 
seemed  to  them  to  have  with  so  practical  a  matter  as 
vital  religion  ;  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  show  that  those 
councils  at  Nice  and  Constantinople,  did  a  work  in  the 
years  325  and  381,  of  which  the  church  universal  will 
feel  the  salutary  effects  to  the  end  of  time,  both  in  practi- 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  169 

cal  and  scientific  respects.  For,  if  all  right  religious 
feeling  towards  Jesus  Christ  is  grounded  in  the  unassail- 
able conviction  that  he  is  truly  and  verily  God ;  "  begot- 
ten, not  made,  being  of  one  substance  with  the  Father ; " 
then  this  creed  laid  down  the  systematic  basis  of  all  the 
true  worship  and  acceptable  adoration  which  the  church 
universal  have  patd  to  the  Redeemer  of  the  world.*  And 
if  a  correct  metaphysical  conception  of  the  Divine  Being 
is  necessary  in  order  to  all  right  philosophizing  upon 
God  and  the  universe,  then  this  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  is  the  only  statement  that  is  adequate  to  the 
wants  of  science,  and  the  only  one  that  can  keep  the 
philosophic  mind  from  the  Pantheistic  and  Dualistic 
deviation  to  which,  when  left  to  itself,  it  is  so  liable. 

The  importance  of  historical  studies  and  the  historic 
spirit  in  an  age  of  the  world  that  more  than  any  other 
suffers  from  false  notions  regarding  the  nature  of  pro- 

*  By  this  is  not  meant  that  there  can  be  no  true  worship  until  a  creed 
has  been  systematically  formed  and  laid  down,  but  that  all  true  worship  is 
grounded  in  a  practical  belief  which,  when  examined,  is  found  to  harmon- 
ize exactly  with  the  speculative  results  reached  by  the  Christian  Scientific 
mind.  So  far  as  the  great  body  of  believers  is  concerned,  their  case  is  like 
that  of  Hilary  of  Poictiers,  who  has  left  one  of  the  best  of  the  patristic 
treatises  upon  the  Trinity,  but  who,  in  his  retired  bishopric  in  Gaul,  did 
not  hear  of  the  Nicene  creed  until  many  years  after  its  origin.  He  '•  found 
in  it  that  very  same  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  essence  in  the  Father  and  the 
Son,  which  he  had,  before  this,  ascertained  to  be  the  true  doctrine,  from  the 
study  of  the  New  Testament,  and  had  received  into  his  Christian  experi- 
ence, without  being  aware  that  the  faith  which  he  bore  in  his  hetirt,  had 
been  laid  down  in  the  form  of  a  creed."  —  Torrey's  Neander,  ii.  396. 

Consonant  with  this,  Hagenbach,  after  speaking  of  the  highly  scientific 
character  of  the  Si/mbolum  Qnicumque,  its  endeavor,  namely,  to  express  the 
ineffable  by  its  series  of  affirmations  and  guarding  negations,  adds,  that 
•'such  formulae  nevertheless  have  their  edifying  no  less  than  their  scientific 
side,  inasmuch  as  they  testify  to  the  struggle  of  the  Christian  mind  after  a 
satisfactory  expression  of  tiiat  which  has  its  full  truth  only  in  the  depths 
of  the  bcllLving  heart  and  character."  —  Dogmengeschichle,  third  edition, 
p  249,  note. 

15 


170  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

gress  and  development,  cannot  be  exaggerated.  But  he 
who  is  able  to  see  in  the  creeds  and  symbols  of  the 
Christian  church  so  many  steps  of  real  progress ;  he  who 
knows  that  outside  of  that  line  of  symbolic  literature 
there  is  nothing  but  deviation  from  the  real  matter  of 
Scripture,  will  not  be  likely  to  be  carried  away  with  Che 
notion  of  a  sudden  and  great  improvement  upon  all  that 
has  hitherto  been  accomplished  in  the  department  of 
theology.  He  will  know  that,  as  all  the  past  develop- 
ment has  been  historic ;  restatement  shooting  out  of 
prestatement ;  the  fuller  creed  bursting  out  of  the  nar- 
rower ;  the  expanded  treatise  swelling  forth  growth-like 
from  the  more  slender;  so  all  the  present  and  future 
development  in  theology  must  be  historic  also.  He  will 
see,  especially,  that  elements  that  have  already  been 
examined  and  rejected  by  the  Christian  mind,  as  unscrip- 
tural  and  foreign,  can  never  again  be  rightfully  intro- 
duced into  creeds  and  symbols  ;  that  history  cannot  undo 
history ;  that  the  progress  of  the  present  and  the  future 
must  be  homogeneous  and  kindred  with  the  progress  of 
the  past. 

in.  In  the  third  place,  a  historic  spirit  in  the  theolo- 
gian protects  him  from  false  notions  respecting  the 
nature  of  the  visible  church,  and  from  a  false  church 
feeling. 

We  can  devote  but  a  moment  to  this  branch  of  the 
discussion,  unusually  important  just  at  this  time. 

We  have  seen  that  the  most  important  part  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  church  is  its  inward  history.  W^e  have  found 
that  the  external  history  of  Christianity  derives  all  its 
interest  for  a  thoughtful  mind  from  its  connection  with 
that  dispensation  of  truth  and  of  spirit  which  lies  beneath 
it  as  its  animating  soul.  The  whole  influence,  conse- 
quently, of  genuine  and  comprehensive  historical  fctudy 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  171 

IS  to  magnify  the  substance  and  subordinate  the  form  ; 
to  exalt  trutli,  doctrine,  and  life,  over  rites,  ceremonies, 
and  polities. 

It  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  the  study  of  ecclesiastical 
history,  in  some  minds,  and  in  some  branches  of  the 
church,  has  strengthened  a  strong  formalizing  tendency, 
and  promoted  ecclesiasticism.  The  Papacy  has  from 
time  immemorial  appealed  to  tradition ;  and  those  por- 
tions of  the  Protestant  chm'ch  which  have  been  least  suc- 
cessful in  freeing  themselves  from  the  materialism  of  the 
Papacy,  have  said  much  about  the  past  history  of  the 
church.  Hence,  in  some  quarters  in  the  Protestant 
church,  there  are,  and  always  have  been,  apprehensions 
lest  history  should  interfere  with  the  great  right  of  pri- 
vate judgment,  and  put  a  stop  to  all  legitimate  progress. 

But  it  only  needs  a  comprehensive  idea  of  the  natm-e 
of  history  to  allay  these  apprehensions.  It  only  needs  to 
be  remembered  that  the  history  of  Christianity  is  some- 
thing more  than  the  history  of  the  Nicene  period  or  of 
the  Scholastic  age.  It  only  needs  to  be  recollected  that 
the  history  of  Christianity  denotes  a  course  of  develop- 
ment from  the  beginning  of  the  world  down  to  the 
present  moment ;  that  it  includes  the  whole  of  that 
Divine  economy  which  began  with  the  first  promise,  and 
which  manifested  itself  first  in  the  Patriarchal,  next  in 
the  Jewish,  and  finally  in  the   Christian,  church.*     The 

*  Probably  the  most  serious  defect  in  the  construction  of  the  history  of 
Christianity  by  the  school  of  Schleiermachcr,  springs  from  regarding  the 
incarnation  as  the  beginning  of  church  history.  Even  if  this  is  not  always 
formally  said,  as  it  sometimes  is,  the  notion  itself  moulds  and  forms  the 
whole  account.  The  golden  position  of  Augustine,  Novum  Testamentum  in 
Vctere  latet,  Vetus  in  Novo  patet,  is  forgotten,  and  the  Jewish  religion,  as  it 
came  from  God,  is  confounded  with  that  corruption  of  it  which  we  find  in 
tJ^e  days  of  our  Saviour,  but  against  which  the  evangelical  prophet  Isaiah 
■^".vciglis  as  earnestly  as  the  evangelical  apostle  Paul.    '•  He  is  not  a  Jew 


172  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

influence  of  the  study  of  this  luhole  great  process,  espe- 
cially if  the  eye  is  kept  fastened  upon  the  spiritual  sub- 
stance of  it,  is  anything  but  formalizing  and  sectarian. — 
If,  therefore,  a  papistic  and  anti-catholic  temper  has 
ever  shown  itself  in  connection  with  the  study  of  ecclesi- 
astical history,  it  was  because  the  inward  history  was 
neglected,  and  even  the  external  history  was  studied  in 
sections  only.  He  who  selects  a  particular  period  merely, 
and  neglects  all  that  has  preceded  and  all  that  has  fol- 
lowed, will  be  liable  to  a  sectarian  view  of  the  nature 
and  history  of  the  church  of  God.  He  who  reproduces 
within  his  mind  the  views  and  feelings  of  a  single  age 
merely,  will  be  individual  and  bigoted  in  his  temper.  — 
He  who  confines  his  studies,  for  example,  as   so  many 

which  is  one  outwardly,  neither  is  that  circumcision  which  is  outward  in 
the  flesh."  Judaism  is  not  Phariseeism.  There  is,  therefore,  no  inward 
and  essential  difference  between  true  Judaism  and  true  Christianity.  The 
former  looked  forward  and  the  latter  looks  backward  to  the  same  central 
Person  and  the  same  central  Cross.  The  manifested  Jehovah  of  the  Old 
Testament  was  the  incarnate  Word  of  the  New.  "  The  religion,"  says 
Edwards,  "  that  the  church  of  God  has  professed  from  the  first  founding  of 
the  church  after  the  fall  to  this  time,  has  always  been  the  same.  Though 
the  dispensations  have  been  altered,  yet  the  religion  which  the  church  has 
professed,  has  always,  as  to  its  essentials,  been  the  same.  The  church  of 
God,  from  the  beginning,  has  been  one  society.  The  Christian  church 
which  has  been  since  Christ's  ascension,  is  manifestly  the  same  society 
continued,  with  the  church  that  was  before  Christ  came.  The  Christian 
church  is  grafted  on  their  root ;  they  are  built  upon  the  same  foundation.  — 
The  revelation  upon  which  both  have  depended,  is  essentially  the  same ; 
for,  as  the  Christian  church  is  built  on  the  Holy  Scriptures,  so  was  the 
Jewish  church,  though  now  the  Scriptures  be  enlarged  by  the  addition  of 
the  New  Testament ;  but  still  it  is  essentially  the  same  revelation  with  that 
which  was  given  in  the  Old  Testament,  only  the  subjects  of  Divine  revela- 
tion are  now  more  clearly  recorded  in  the  Nevv  Testament  than  they  were 
in  the  Old.  But  the  sum  and  substance  of  both  the  Old  Testament  and 
the  New,  is  Christ  and  His  redemption.  The  church  of  GocT  has  always 
been  on  the  foundation  of  Divine  revelation,  and  always  on  those  revela- 
tions that  were  essentially  the  same,  and  which  were  summarily  compre- 
hended in  the  Holy  Scriptures."  —  Edwards's  Work  of  Redemption,  i.  473. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  173 

have  done,  and  arc  doing,  to  that  period  from  Constan- 
tine  to  Hildebrand,  whicli  witnessed  the  rise  and  forma- 
tion of  the  Papacy ;  and,  especially,  he,  who  in  this 
period  studies  merely  the  archaeology  and  the  polity, 
without  the  doctrines,  the  morality,  and  the  life ;  he, 
who  confines  himself  to  those  tracts  of  Augustine  which 
emphasize  the  idea  of  the  church  in  opposition  to  ancient 
radicals  and  disorganizers,  but  studiously  avoids  those 
other  and  greater  and  more  elaborate  treatises  of  this 
earnest  spiritualist,  which  thunder  the  idea  of  the  truth, 
in  opposition  to  all  heretics  and  all  formalists ;  he,  in 
short,  who  goes  to  the  study  of  ecclesiastical  history  with 
a  predetermined  purpose,  and  carries  into  it  an  antece- 
dent interpreting  idea,  derived  from  his  denomination, 
and  not  from  Scripture,  will  undoubtedly  become  more 
and  more  Romish  and  less  and  less  historic. 

Such  a  disposition  as  this,  is  directly  crossed  and  mor- 
tified by  a  comprehensive  and  philosophic  conception  of 
history.  Especially  will  the  history  of  doctrines  destroy 
the  belief  in  the  infallibility,  or  paramount  authority,  of 
any  particular  portioii  of  the  church  universal.  The  eye 
is  now  turned  away  from  those  external  and  imposing 
features  of  the  history  which  have  such  a  natural  effect 
to  carnalize  the  mind,  to  those  simpler  truths  and  interior 
living  principles,  which  have  a  natural  effect  to  spiritual- 
ize it.  An  interest  in  the  theology  of  the  church  is  very 
different  from  an  interest  in  the  polity  of  the  church.  It 
is  a  fact  that  as  the  one  rises,  the  other  declines ;  and 
there  would  be  no  surer  method  of  destroying  the  formal- 
ism that  exists  in  some  portions  of  the  church,  than  to 
compel  their  clergy  to  the  continuous  and  close  study  of 
the  entire  history  of  Christian  doctrines. 

IV.  In  the  fourth  place,  a  historic  spirit  in  theologians 
15* 


174  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

promotes  a  profound  and  genial  agreement  on  essential 
points,  and  a  genial  disagreement  on  non-essentials. 

It  is  plain  that  the  study  of  church  history  tends  to 
establish  and  to  magnify  the  distinction  between  real 
orthodoxy  and  real  heterodoxy.  History  is  discriminating 
and  cannot  be  made  to  mingle  the  immiscible.  In 
regard,  therefore,  to  the  great  main  currents  of  truth  and 
of  error,  the  historic  mind  is  clear  in  its  insight  and 
decided  in  its  opinions.  It  knows  that  the  Christian 
religion  has  been  both  truly  and  falsely  apprehended  by 
the  human  mind,  and  that,  consequently,  two  lines  of 
belief  can  be  traced  down  the  ages  and  generations  ;  that 
in  only  one  of  these  two,  is  Scriptural  Christianity  to  be 
found. 

But  its  wide  and  catholic  survey,  also  enables  the  his- 
toric mind  to  see  as  the  unhistoric  mind  caimot,  that  the 
line  of  orthodoxy  is  not  a  mathematical  line.  It  has 
some  breadth.  It  is  a  path,  upon  which  the  church  can 
travel,  and  not  merely  a  direction  in  which  it  can  look. 
It  is  a  high  and  royal  road,  where  Christian  men  may  go 
abreast ;  may  pass  each  other,  and  carry  on  the  practical 
business  of  a  Christian  life;  and  not  a  mere  hair-line 
down  which  nought  can  go  but  the  one-eyed  sighting  of 
either  speculative  or  provincial  bigotry. 

Hence  historical  studies  banish  both  provincialism  and 
bigotry  from  a  theological  system,  and  imbue  it  with 
that  practical  and  catholic  spirit  which  renders  it  interest- 
ing and  influential  through  the  whole  church  and  world. 
A  system  of  theology  may  be  true  and  yet  not  contain 
the  whole  truth.  It  may  have  seized  upon  some  funda- 
mental positions,  or  cardinal  doctrines,  with  a  too  violent 
energy,  and  have  given  them  an  exorbitant  expansion,  to 
the  neglect  of  other  equally  fundamental  truths.  In  this 
case,  historical  knowledge  is  one  of  the  best  correctives. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  175 

A  wider  knowledge  of  the  course  of  theological  s])eciila- 
tion  ;  a  more  profound  acquaintance  with  the  origin  and 
formation  of  the  leading  systems  of  the  church  universal; 
tends  to  produce  that  equilibrium  of  the  parts  and  that 
comprehensiveness  of  the  whole,  which  are  so  apt  to  be 
lacking  in  a  provincial  creed  or  system. 

A  similar  liberalizing  influence  is  exerted  by  the  study 
of  church  history  upon  the  theologian  himself.  He  sees 
that  men  on  the  same  side  of  the  line  wiiich  divides  real 
orthodoxy  from  real  heterodoxy,  have  diftered  from  each 
other,  and  sometimes  upon  very  important,  though  never 
upon  vital,  points.  The  history  of  Christian  doctrine 
compels  him  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  a  theological 
space,  within  which  it  is  safe  for  the  theological  scientific 
mind  to  expatiate  and  career ;  that  this  is  a  liberty  con- 
ceded to  the  theologian  by  the  unsystematized  form  in 
which  the  written  revelation  has  been  given  to  man, 
and  a  liberty,  too,  which,  when  it  is  not  abused,  greatly 
promotes  that  clearer  and  fuller  understanding  of  the 
Scriptures,  which  we  have  seen  the  historic  Christian 
mind  is  continually  striving  after. 

But  this  scientific  liberality  among  theologians  leads 
directly  to  a  more  profound  and  genial  agreement  among 
them  upon  all  practical  and  essential  points.  The  liber- 
ality of  the  historic  mind  is  very  far  removed  from  that 
mere  indifFerentism  which  sometimes  usurps  this  name. 
There  is  a  truth  for  which  the  disagreeing,  and  perhaps 
(owing  to  imperfectly  sanctified  hearts)  the  bitterly  disa- 
greeing, theologians  would  both  be  tied  to  one  stake  and 
be  burnt  with  one  fire.  There  is  a  vital  and  necessary 
doctrine  for  which,  if  it  were  assailed  by  a  third  party,  a 
bitter  unevangelic  enemy,  both  of  the  contending  ortho- 
dox divines  would  fight  under  one  and  the  same  shield. 
That  truth  which  history  shows  has  been  the  life  of  the 


176  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

church  and  without  which  it  must  die ;  that  historic 
truth,  which  is  the  heritage  and  the  joy  of  the  whole 
family  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  is  dear  to  both  hearts 
alike. 

But  what  tends  to  make  differing  theologians  agree, 
profoundly  and  thoroughly,  upon  essential  points,  also 
tends  to  make  them  differ  generously  and  genially  upon 
non-essentials.  Those  who  know  that,  after  all,  they  are 
one,  in  fundamental  character,  and  in  fundamental  belief; 
that,  after  all  their  disputing,  they  have  but  one  Lord,  one 
faith  and  one  baptism  ;  find  it  more  difficult  to  maintain 
a  bitter  tone  and  to  employ  an  exasperated  accent  toward 
each  other.  The  common  Christian  consciousness  wells 
up  from  the  lower  depths  of  the  soul,  and,  as  in  those  deep 
inland  lakes  which  are  fed  from  subterranean  fountains, 
the  sweet  waters  neutralize  and  change  those  bitter  or 
brackish  surface  currents  that  have  in  them  the  taint  of 
the  shores  ;  perhaps  the  washings  of  civilization. 

While,  therefore,  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  varie- 
ties of  statement  which  appear  in  scientific  orthodoxy, 
does  not  in  the  least  render  the  mind  indifferent  to  that 
essential  truth  which  every  man  must  believe  or  be  lost 
eternally,  it  at  the  same  time  induces  a  generous  and 
genial  temper  among  differing  theologians.  The  contro- 
versies of  the  Christian  church  have  unquestionably  been 
a  benefit  to  systematic  theology,  and  that  mind  must 
have  a  very  meagre  idea  of  the  comprehensiveness  and 
pregnancy  of  Divine  revelation,  who  supposes  that  the 
Christian  mind  could  have  derived  out  of  it  that  great 
system  of  doctrinal  knowledge  which  is  to  outlive  all  the 
constructions  of  the  philosophic  mind,  without  any  sharp 
controversy,  or  keen  examination  among  theologians. 
That  structure  did  not  and  could  not  rise  like  Thebes,  at 
the  mellifluous  sound  of  Amphion's  lute ;  it  did  not  rear 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  177 

itself  up  like  the  Jewish  temple  without  sound  of  ham- 
mer, or  axe,  or  any  tool  of  iron.  Slowly,  and  with  dilli- 
culty,  was  it  upreared,  by  hard  toil,  amid  opposition  from 
foes  without  and  foes  within,  and  through  much  earnest 
mental  conllict.  And  so  will  it  continue  to  be  reared  and 
beautified  in  the  ages  that  are  to  come.  We  cannot  alter 
this  course  of  things  so  long  as  the  truth  is  infinite,  and 
the  mind  is  finite  and  sees  through  a  glass  darkly. 

What  is  needed,  therefore,  is  a  sweet  and  generous 
temper  in  all  parties  as  the  work  goes  on.  The  theolo- 
gian needs  that  great  ability  :  the  abiUtij  to  differ  genlallij. 
It  has  been  the  misery  and  the  disgrace  of  the  church,  that 
too  many  theologians  who  have  held  the  truth,  and  have 
held  it,  too,  in  its  best  forms,  have  held  it,  like  the  hea- 
then, in  unrighteousness  ;  have  held  it  in  narrowness  and 
bigotry.  They  have  differed  in  a  hard,  dry,  ungenial 
way.  They  have  forgotten  that  the  rich  man  can  afford 
to  be  liberal ;  that  the  strong  man  need  not  be  constantly 
anxious ;  that  a  scientific  and  rigorous  orthodoxy  should 
ever  look  out  of  a  beaming,  and  not  a  sullen,  eye. 

Let  us  be  thankful  that  some  ages  in  the  history  of  the 
church  fiunish  examples  that  cheer  and  instruct.  Look 
back  at  that  most  interesting  period,  the  period  of  the 
Reformation,  and  contemplate  the  profound  agreement 
upon  essentials  and  the  genial  disagi'eement  upon  non- 
essentials, that  prevailed  among  the  leaders  then.  Mar- 
tin Luther  and  John  Calvin  were  two  theologians  who 
differed  as  gi'eatly  in  mental  structure,  and  in  their  spon- 
taneous mode  of  contemplating  and  constructing  doc- 
trines, as  is  possible  for  two  minds  upon  the  same  side 
of  the  great  controversy  betw^een  orthodoxy  and  heresy. 
No  man  will  say  that  the  differences  between  Lutheran- 
ism  and  Calvinism  are  minor  or  unimportant.  Probably 
any  one  would  say  that,  if  those  two  men  were  able  to 


178  THE    NATURE,    AND    INFLUENCE,    OF 

feel  the  common  Christian  fellowship ;  to  enjoy  the  com- 
munion of  saints  ;  and  to  realize  with  tenderness  their 
common  relationship  to  the  Head  of  the  church  ;  there  is 
no  reason  why  all  men  who  are  properly  within  the  pale 
of  orthodoxy  should  not  do  the  same. 

Turn  now  to  the  letters  of  both  of  these  men  ;  written 
in  the  midst  of  that  controversy  which  was  going  on  be- 
tween the  two  portions  of  the  Reformed,  and  which  re- 
sulted, not,  however,  through  the  desire  or  the  influence 
of  these  two  great  men,  but  through  the  bitterness  of 
their  adherents,  in  their  division  into  two  distinct  church- 
es ;  and  witness  the  common  genial  feeling  that  pre- 
vailed. Hear  Luther  in  his  letter  to  Bucer  sending  his 
cordial  greeting  to  Calvin,  whose  books  he  has  read  with 
singular  pleasure:  cum  singulari  vohptate.  Hear  Calvin 
declaring  his  willing  and  glad  readiness  to  subscribe  to 
the  Augsburg  Confession,  interpreting  it  upon  the  sacra- 
mental question  as  the  Lutherans  themselves  author- 
ized him  to  do.*  Above  all,  turn  to  that  burst,  from  Cal- 
vin, of  affectionate  feeling  towards  Melanchthon,  which 
gives  itself  vent  in  the  midst  of  one  of  his  stern  contro- 
versial tracts,  like  the  music  of  flutes  silencing  for  a  mo- 
ment the  clang  of  war-cymbals  and  the  blare  of  the  trum- 
pet :  "  O  Philip  Melanchthon,  to  thee  I  address  myself, 
to  thee  who  art  now  living  in  the  presence  of  God  with 

*  Henry's  Life  of  Calvin,  IT.  pp.  96,  99.  It  is  interesting  and  instructive 
to  witness  the  liberal  feeling  of  the  scientific  and  rigorously  orthodox  Atha- 
nasius  towards  the  Semiarians  themselves,  whose  statement  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity  he  regarded  to  be  inadequate.  See  the  quotation  from 
Afhanasins  de  Sijnodis,  §  41,  in  Giescler,  Chap.  11.  §  83,  and  the  reference  to 
Hilariiis  de  Synodis,  §  76.  Says  Augustine:  "  they  who  do  not  pertina- 
ciously defend  their  opinion,  false  and  perverse  though  it  be,  especially 
when  it  does  not  spring  from  the  audacity  of  their  own  presumption,  while 
they  seek  the  truth  with  cautious  solicitude,  and  are  prepared  to  correct 
themselves  when  they  have  found  it,  are  by  no  means  to  be  ranked  among 
heretics."'— Epistle  43,  Newman's  Library  Version. 


THE    HISTORIC    SPIRIT.  170 

Jesus  Christ,  and  there  awaitest  us,  till  death  shall  unite 
us  in  the  enjoyment  of  Divine  peace.  A  hundred  times 
hast  thou  said  to  me,  when  weary  with  so  much  labor 
and  oppressed  with  so  many  burdens,  thou  laidst  thy 
head  upon  my  breast,  '  God  grant,  God  grant,  that  I 
may  now  die!  '"* 

The  theology  of  Richard  Baxter  differs  from  the  theol- 
ogy of  John  Owen  by  some  important  modifications,  and 
each  of  these  two  types  of  Calvinism  will  probably  per- 
petuate itself  in  the  church  to  the  end  of  time ;  but  the 
confidence  which  both  of  these  great  men  cherished  to- 
wards each  other,  should  go  along  down  with  these  sys- 
tems through  the  ages  and  generations  of  time. 

But  what  surer  method  can  be  employed  to  produce 
and  perpetuate  this  catholic  and  liberal  feeling  among 
the  various  types  and  schools  of  orthodox  theology,  than 
to  impart  to  all  of  them  the  broad  views  of  history  ? 
And  what  surer  method  than  this  can  be  taken  to  dimin- 
ish the  number  and  bring  about  more  unity  of  opinion 
in  the  department  of  systematic  theology  ?  For  it  is  one 
great  effect  of  history  to  coalesce  and  harmonize.  It  intro- 
duces mutual  modifications,  by  showing  opponents  that 
their  predecessors  were  nearer  together  than  they  them- 
selves are,  by  tracing  the  now  widely  separated  opinions 
back  to  that  point  of  departure  where  they  were  once 
very  near  together ;  and,  above  all,  by  causing  all  parties 
to  remember,  what  all  are  so  liable  to  forget  in  the  heat 
of  controversy,  that  all  forms  of  orthodoxy  took  their  first 
origin  in  the  Scriptures,  and  that,  therefore,  all  theologi- 
cal controversy  should  be  carried  on  with  a  constant 
reference  to  this  one  infallible  standard,  which  can  teach 
but  one  infallible  system. 

*  Henry's  Life  of  Calvin,  I.  239. 


180     NATURE,  AND  INFLUENCE,  OF  THE  HISTORIC  SPIRIT. 

I  have  thus  considered  the  nature  of  the  historic  spirit 
and  its  influence  both  upon  the  secular  and  theological 
mind,  in  order  to  indicate  my  own  deep  sense  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  department  in  which  I  have  been  called 
to  give  instruction  by  the  guardians  of  this  Institution. 
The  first  instinctive  feelings  would  have  shrunk  from  the 
weight  of  the  great  burden  imposed,  and  the  extent  of 
the  very  great  field  opened  ;  though  in  an  institution 
where  the  pleasant  years  of  professional  study  were  all 
spent ;  though  in  an  ancient  institution,  made  illustrious 
and  influential,  through  the  land  and  the  world,  by  the 
labors  of  the  venerated  dead  and  the  honored  living. 
But  it  does  not  become  the  individual  to  yield  to  his 
individuality.  The  stream  of  Divine  Providence,  so  sig- 
nally conspicuous  in  the  life  of  the  church,  and  of  its 
members,  is  the  stream  upon  which  the  diffident  as  well  as 
the  confident  must  alike  cast  themselves.  And  he  who 
enters  upon  a  new  course  of  labor  for  the  church  of 
God,  with  just  views  of  the  greatness  and  glory  of  the 
kingdom  and  of  the  comparative  unimportance  of  any 
individual  member,  will  be  most  likely  to  perform  a  w^ork 
that  will  best  harmonize  with  the  development  and  pro- 
gi'ess  of  the  great  whole. 


THE  RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE,  AND  STYLE, 
TO  THOUGHT.* 


"  It  is  a  truth,"  (says  Hartung  in  beginning  his  subtle 
and  profound  work  on  the  Greek  Particles,)  "  as  simple 
as  it  is  fruitful,  that  language  is  no  arbitrary,  artificial, 
and  gradual  invention  of  the  reflective  understanding, 
but  a  necessary  and  organic  product  of  human  nature,  ap- 
pearing contemporaneously  with  the  activity  of  thought. 
Speech  is  the  con*elate  of  thought ;  both  require  and  condi- 
tion each  other  like  body  and  soul,  and  are  developed  at 
the  same  time  and  in  the  same  degree,  both  in  the  case  of 
the  individual  and  the  nation.  Words  are  the  coinage  of 
conceptions  freeing  themselves  from  the  dark  chaos  of 
intimations  and  feelings,  and  gaining  shape  and  clear- 
ness. In  so  far  as  a  man  uses  and  is  master  of  language, 
has  he  also  attained  clearness  of  thought ;  the  developed 
and  spoken  language  of  a  people  is  its  expressed  intelli- 
gence." t  Consonant  with  this,  William  Humboldt  re- 
marks that  "  speech  must  be  regarded  as  naturally  inhe- 
rent in  man,  for  it  is  altogether  inexplicable  as  a  work 
of  his  inventive  understanding.  We  are  none  the  bet- 
ter for  allowing  thousands   of  years  for  its  invention. 

*  Reprinted  from  the  Bibliotheca  Sacra  5  Numbers  XX.  and  XXXI. 
t  Partikeln  Lehre,  Bd.  I.  §§  1,  2. 

16  (181) 


T^2  RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT. 

There  could  be  no  invention  of  language  unless  its  type 
already  existed  in  the  human  mind.  Man  is  man  only 
by  means  of  speech  ;  but  in  order  to  invent  speech  he 
must  be  already  man." 

In  these  extracts  it  is  asserted  that  language  is  an  or- 
ganic product  of  which  thought  is  the  organizing  and 
vitalizing  principle.  Writers  upon  language  have  gene- 
rally acknowledged  a  connection  of  some  sort  between 
thought  and  language,  but  they  have  not  been  unanimous 
with  respect  to  the  nature  of  the  connection.  The  com- 
mon assertions  that  language  is  the  "dress'-  of  thought  — 
is  the  "  vehicle "  of  thought  —  point  to  an  outward  and 
mechanical  connection  between  the  two :  while  the  fine 
remark  of  Wordsworth  that  "  language  is  not  so  much 
the  dress  of  thought  as  its  incarnation,"  and  the  frequent 
comparison  of  the  relation  which  they  bear  to  each  other, 
with  that  which  exists  between  the  body  and  the  soul, 
indicate  that  a  vital  connection  is  believed  to  exist  be- 
tween language  and  thought. 

The  correctness  of  this  latter  doctrine  becomes  appa- 
rent when  it  is  considered  that  everything  growing  out 
of  human  nature,  in  the  process  of  its  development  and 
meeting  its  felt  wants,  is  of  necessity  living-  in  its 
essence,  and  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  dead  mechanical 
contrivance.  That  language  has  such  a  natural  and 
spontaneous  origin  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that  history 
gives  no  account  of  any  language  which  was  the  direct 
invention  of  any  one  man,  or  set  of  men,  to  supply  the 
wants  of  a  nation  utterly  destitute  of  the  ability  to  ex- 
press its  thought.  Individuals  have  bestowed  an  alpha- 
bet, a  written  code  of  laws,  useful  mechanical  inventions, 
upon  their  countrymen,  but  no  individual  ever  bestowed 
a  language.  This  has  its  origin  in  human  nature,  oi 
rather  in  that  constitutional  necessity,  under  which  hu 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT.  183 

man  nature  in  common  with  all  creation  is  placed  by 
Him  who  sees  the  end  from  the  begiiming,  which  com- 
pels the  invisible  to  become  visible,  the  formless  to  take 
form,  the  intelligible  to  corporealize  itself.  That  thought 
is  invisible  and  spiritual  in  essence,  is  gi'anted  by  all  sys- 
tems of  philosophy  except  the  coarsest  and  most  unphi- 
losophic  materialism.  It  is  therefore  subject  to  the  uni- 
versal law,  and  must  become  sensuous  —  must  be  com- 
municated. 

In  the  case  of  the  primitive  language,  spoken  by  the 
first  human  pair,  we  must  conceive  of  it  as  a  gift  from  the 
Creator,  perfectly  correspondent,  like  aU  their  other  en- 
dowments, to  the  wants  of  a  living  soul.  As  in  this  first 
instance  the  bodily  form  reached  its  height  of  being  and 
of  beauty,  not  through  the  ordinary  processes  of  genera- 
tion, birth,  and  growth,  but  as  an  instantaneous  creation  ; 
so  too  the  form  of  thought,  language,  passed  through  no 
stages  of  development  (as  some  teach)  from  the  inarticu- 
late cry  of  the  brute,  to  the  articulate  and  intelligent 
tones  of  cultivated  man,  but  came  into  full  and  finished 
existence  simultaneously  with  the  fiat  that  called  the 
full-formed  soul  and  body  into  being.  It  would  not 
have  been  a  perfect  creation,  had  the  first  man  stood 
mute  in  mature  manhood,  and  that  too  in  his  unfallen 
state  and  amidst  the  beauty  and  glory  of  Eden.  As  the  pos- 
terity of  the  first  man  come  into  existence  by  a  process, 
and  as  both  soul  and  body  in  their  case  undergo  develop- 
ment before  reaching  the  points  of  bloom  and  maturity, 
language  also  in  their  case  is  a  slow  and  gradual  forma- 
tion. It  begins  with  the  dawn  of  reflective  conscious- 
ness, and  unfolds  itself  as  this  becomes  deeper  and  clear- 
er. In  the  infancy  of  a  nation  it  is  exquisitely  fitted  for 
the  lyrical  expression  of  those  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  rise   simple  and  sincere  in  the  national  mind  and 


184  RELATIOJX    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT. 

heart,  before  philosophical  reflection  has  rendered  them 
complex,  or  advancing  civilization  has  dried  up  their 
freshness.  As  the  period  of  fancy  and  feeling  passes 
by  and  that  of  reason  and  reflection  comes  in,  language 
becomes  more  rigid  and  precise  in  its  structure,  conforms 
itself  to  the  expression  of  profound  thought,  and  history 
and  philosophy  take  the  place  of  the  ballad  and  the 
chronicle. 

Now  the  point  to  be  observed  here  is,  that  this  whole 
process  is  spontaneous  and  natural ;  is  a  growth  and 
not  a  manufacture.  Thought  embodies  itself,  even  as 
the  merely  animal  life  becomes  sensuous  and  sensible 
through  its  own  tendency  and  activity.  When  investi- 
gating language,  therefore,  we  are  really  within  the 
sphere  of  life  and  living  organization,  and  to  attempt  its 
comprehension  by  means  of  mechanical  principles  would 
be  as  absurd  as  to  attempt  to  apprehend  the  phenomena 
of  the  animal  kingdom  by  the  principles  that  regulate 
the  investigation  of  inorganic  nature.  It  is  only  by  the 
apphcation  of  dynamical  principles,  of  the  doctrine  of 
life,  that  we  can  get  a  true  view  of  language  or  be  en- 
abled to  use  it  with  power. 

It  is  assumed  then  that  thought  is  the  life  of  language ; 
and  this  too  in  no  figurative  sense  of  the  word,  but  in  its 
strict  scientific  signification  as  denoting  the  principle 
that  organizes  and  vivifies  the  form  in  which  it  makes 
its  appearance.  It  is  assumed  that  thought  is  as  really 
the  living  principle  of  language  as  the  soul  is  the  fife  of 
the  body,  and  the  assumption  verifies  itself  by  the  clear- 
ness which  it  introduces  into  the  investigation  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  by  the  light  which  it  flares  into  its  darker  and 
more  mysterious  parts.  That  fusion^  for  instance,  of  the 
thoughts  with  the  words,  which  renders  the  discourse  of 
the  poet  glowing  and  tremulous  with  feeling  and  life, 


\ 

RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT.  185 

can  be  explained  upon  no  other  supposition  than  that 
the  immaterial  entity  born  of  beauty  in  the  poet's  mind 
actually  materializes  itself,  and  thus  enlivens  the  other- 
wise lifeless  syllables.  Nothing  but  a  vital  connection 
with  the  thoughts  that  breathe,  can  account  for  the 
words  that  burn. 

We  are  not  therefore  to  look  upon  language  as  having 
intrinsic  existence,  separate  from  the  thought  which  it 
conveys,  but  as  being  external  thought,  expressed  thouglit. 
Words  were  not  first  invented,  and  then  assigned  to 
conceptions  as  their  arbitrary,  and  intrinsically,  mean- 
ingless signs ;  mere  indices,  having  no  more  inward  con- 
nection with  the  things  indicated,  than  the  algebraic 
marks,  -\-  and  — ,  have  with  the  notions  of  increase  and 
diminution.  In  the  order  of  -nature,  language  follows 
rather  than  precedes  thought,  and  is  subject  to  all  its 
modifications  from  its  first  rise  in  the  consciousness  of 
the  individual  and  the  nation,  up  to  that  of  the  philoso- 
pher and  the  philosophic  age  in  a  nation's  history.  Lan- 
guage in  essence  is  thought,  is  thought  in  an  outward 
form,  and  consequently  cannot  exist,  or  be  the  object  of 
reflection  dissevered  from  the  vital  principle  which  sub- 
stantiates it.  The  words  of  the  most  thoughtless  man 
do  nevertheless  contain  some  meaning,  and  words  have 
effect  upon  us  only  in  proportion  as  they  are  filled  with 
thought. 

And  this  fulness  must  not  be  conceived  of  as  flowina: 
into  empty  moulds  already  prepared.  It  is  a  statement 
of  one  of  the  most  profound  investigators  of  physical  life, 
that  the  living  power  merely  added  to  the  dead  organ  is 
not  life  ;*  i.  e.  that  no  intensity  whatever  of  physical  life 

*  Carus'  Physiologic,  Bd.  1.  Vorrede.  He  denies  the  correctness  of  the 
following  formula  upon  which,  he  affirms,  the  mechanical  school  of  physi- 
ologists proceeds :  todtes  Organ  +  Kraft  =  Leben. 

16* 


186 


RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 


streamed  upon  and  through  a  dead  hand  lying  upon  a 
dissecting  table  can  produce  life  in  the  form  of  the  liv- 
ing member.  The  living  member  cannot  come  into  ex- 
istence except  as  growing  out  of  a  living  body,  and  the 
living  body  cannot  come  into  existence  unless  life,  the 
immaterial  and  invisible,  harden  into  the  materiality  and 
burst  into  the  visibility  of  a  minute  seminal  point  which 
teems  and  swells  with  the  whole  future  organism ;  a 
point  or  dot  of  life  from  which  as  a  centre,  the  radiation, 
the  organization,  and  the  circulation  may  commence. 
In  like  manner  it  is  impossible,  if  it  were  conceivable, 
to  produce  human  language  by  the  superinduction  of 
thought  upon,  or  by  the  assignation  of  meaning  to,  a 
mass  of  unmeaning  sounds  already  in  existence.  When 
a  conception  comes  into  the  consciousness  of  one  mind, 
and  seeks  expression  that  it  may  enter  the  consciousness 
of  another  mind,  it  must  be  conceived  of  as  uttering  it- 
self in  a  word  which  is  not  taken  at  hap-hazard,  and 
which  might  have  been  any  other  arbitrary  sound,  but 
which  is  prompted  and  formed,  by  the  creative  thought 
struggling  out  of  the  world  of  mind,  and  making  use  of 
the  vocal  organs  in  order  to  enter  the  world  of  sense. 

We  cannot,  it  is  true,  verify  all  this  by  reference  to  all 
the  words  we  are  in  the  habit  of  using  every  day,  be- 
cause we  are  too  far  off  from  the  period  of  their  origin, 
and  because  they  are  oftentimes  combinations  of  simple 
sounds  that  were  originally  formed  by  vocal  organs  dif- 
fering from  our  own  by  marked  peculiarities,  yet  the 
simplicity  and  naturalness  of  the  Greek  of  Homer,  or 
the  English  of  Chaucer,  which  is  no  other  than  the  affi- 
nity of  the  language  with  the  thought,  the  sympathy  of 
the  sound  with  the  sense,  cause  us  to  feel  what  in  the 
present  state  of  philology  most  certainly  cannot  be  proved 
in  the  case  of  every  single  word,  that  primarily,  in  the 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT.  187 

root  and  heart,  language  is  self-embodied  thought.  Yet 
though  it  is  impossible  at  present  in  the  case  of  every 
single  word  to  verify  the  assumption  upon  which  we 
have  gone,  it  is  not  dilficult  to  do  this  in  the  case  of  that 
portion  of  the  language  in  which  ihere  is  emphasis  and 
intensity  of  meaning.  The  verb,  by  which  action  and 
suftering  (which  in  the  animal  world  is  but  a  calmer  and 
more  intense  activity)  are  expressed,  is  a  word  often  and 
evidently  suited  to  the  thought.  Those  nouns  which  are 
names  not  of  things  but  of  acts  and  energies,  are  like- 
wise exceedingly  significant  of  the  things  signified.  The 
motions  of  the  mouth,  the  position  of  the  organs,  and 
the  tension  of  the  muscles  of  speech,  in  the  utterance  of 
such  words  as  shock,  smite,  writhe,  slake,  quench,  are 
produced  by  the  force  and  energy  and  character  of  the 
conceptions  which  these  words  communicate,  just  as  the 
prolonged  relaxation  of  the  organs  and  muscles  in  the 
pronunciation  of  soothe,  breathe,  dream,  calm,  and  the 
like,  results  naturally  from  the  nature  of  the  thought  of 
which  they  are  the  vocal  embodiment. 

And  this  leads  us  to  notice  that  this  view  of  the  origin 
and  nature  of  language  acquires  additional  support  from 
considering  that  the  vocal  sound  is  the  product  of  physi- 
cal organs  which  are  started  into  action  and  directed  in 
their  motion  by  the  soul  itself.*  Even  the  tones  of  the 
animal  are  suited  to  the  inward  feeling  by  the  particular 
play  of  muscles  and  organs  of  utterance.  The  feeling 
of  pleasure  could  not,  so  long  as  nature  is  herself,  twist 
these  muscles  and  organs  into  the  emission  of  the  sharp 
scream  of  physical  agony,  any  more  than  it  could  light 
up  the  eye  with  the  glare  and  flash  of  rage. 

Now  if  this  is  true  in  the  low  sphere  of  animal  exist- 

*  See  on  this  point  Wallis's  English  Grammar,  and  Hearue's  L.anf^lofL3 
Chronicle,  Vol.  I.  Preface. 


188       RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 

ence,  it  is  still  more  true  in  the  sphere  of  intellectual  and 
moral  existence.  If  life  is  true  to  itself  in  the  lower,  it 
is  true  to  itself  in  the  higher  realm  of  its  manifestation. 
When  full  of  earnest  thought  and  feeling  the  mind  usCrS 
the  body  at  will,  and  the  latter  naturally  and  spontane- 
ously subserves  the  former.  As  thought  becomes  more 
and  more  earnest,  and  feeling  more  and  more  glowing, 
the  body  bends  and  yields  with  increasing  pliancy,  down 
to  its  minutest  fibres  and  most  delicate  tissues,  to  the 
working  of  the  engaged  mind  ;  the  organs  of  speech  be- 
come one  with  the  soul,  and  are  swayed  and  wielded  by 
it.  The  word  is,  as  it  were,  put  into  the  mouthy  by  the 
vehement  and  excited  spirit. 

When  the  mind  is  quickened,  out  of  doubt, 
The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 
Break  up  their  drowsy  grave  and  newly  move 
With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity.* 

As  well  might  it  be  said  that  there  is  no  vital  and  na- 
tural connection  between  the  feeling  and  the  blush  in 
which  it  mantles,  or  the  tear  in  which  it  finds  vent,  as 
that  the  word — the  ^^  winged  worcV^ — has  only  an  arbi- 
trary and  dead  relation  to  the  thought. 

Again,  it  is  generally  conceded  that  there  is  an  inher- 
ent fitness  of  gesture,  attitude  and  look,  to  the  thought 
or  feeling  conveyed  by  them ;  but  do  attitude,  gesture, 
and  look,  sustain  a  more  intimate  relation  to  thought 
and  feeling  than  language  does ;  language,  at  once  the 
most  universal  as  well  as  most  particular  in  its  applica- 
tion, the  most  exhaustive  and  perfect,  of  all  the  media 
of  communication  between  mind  and  mind,  between 
heart  and  heart?  The  truth  is,  that  all  the  media 
through  which  thought  becomes  sensuous  and  communi- 

*  Henry  IV.  Act  IV.  Sc.  L 


RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT.       189 

cable  are  in  greater  or  less  degree,  yet  in  some  degree, 
homoii^-c neons  and  con-natural  v:ith  thong'ht  itself.  In  other 
words  they  all,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  possess  mani- 
fest propriety. 

It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  here,  that  the  question  is  not 
whether  thought  could  not  have  embodied  itself  in  other 
forms  than  it  has,  whetlier  other  languages  could  not 
have  arisen,  but  whether  the  existing  forms  possess  ad- 
aptedness  to  the  thought  they  convey.  Life  is  not  com- 
j^elled  to  manifest  itself  in  one  only  form,  or  in  one  par- 
ticular set  of  forms,  in  any  of  the  kingdoms,  but  it  is 
compelled  to  make  the  form  in  which  it  does  appear, 
vital  like  itself.  The  forms,  for  aught  that  we  know, 
may  be  infinite  in  number,  in  which  the  invisible  princi- 
ple may  become  sensible,  but  the  corpse  is  no  one  of 
them. 

Thought  as  the  substance  of  discourse  is  logical,  ne- 
cessary, and  immutable,  in  its  nature,  while  language  as 
the  form  is  variable.  The  language  of  a  people  is  conti- 
nually undergoing  a  change,  so  that  those  who  speak  it 
in  its  later  periods,  (it  very  often  happens,)  would  be 
unintelligible  to  those  who  spoke  it  in  its  earlier  ages. 
Chaucer  cannot  be  read  by  Englishmen  of  the  present 
day  without  a  glossary.*  Again,  the  languages  of  dif- 
ferent nations  differ  from  each  other.  There  is  great 
variety  in  the  changes  of  the  verb  to  express  the  passive 
form.  The  subject  is  sometimes  included  in  the  verb, 
sometimes  is  prefixed,  and  sometimes  is  suffixed  to  it. 
The  Malay  language  assumes  the  plural  instead  of  the 

*  Yet  even  in  this  case,  as  Wordsworth  truly  remarks,  "  the  affecting 
parts  are  almost  always  expressed  in  lanj;uii^e  pure,  and  universally  intel- 
ligible even  to  this  day." — Preface  to  Lyrical  Ballads.  The  more  intense 
and  vital  the  thought,  the  nearer  the  form  approaches  tlie  essence,  the  moro 
universal  does  it  become. 


190  RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT. 

singular  as  the  basis  of  number,  all  nouns  primarily  de- 
noting the  plural.  Some  use  the  dual  and  some  do  not ; 
some  give  gender  and  number  to  adjectives,  and  others 
do  not ;  some  have  the  article  and  some  have  not.  And 
yet  all  these  different  languages  are  equally  embodiments 
of  thought,  and  of  the  same  thought  substantially.  For 
the  human  mind  is  everywhere,  and  at  all  times,  subject 
to  the  invariable  laws  of  its  own  constitution,  and  that 
logical,  immutable,  truth  which  stands  over  against  it  as 
its  correlative  object,  is  developed  in  much  the  same  way 
among  all  nations  in  whom  the  intellect  obtains  a  devel- 
opment. The  vital  principle — logical,  immutable,  truth 
in  the  form  of  human  thought — is  here  seen  embodying 
itself  in  manifold  forms,  with  freedom  and  originality, 
and  with  an  expressive  suitableness  in  every  instance. 

That  a  foreign  language  does  not.  seem  expressive  to 
the  stranger  is  no  argument  against  the  fundamental  hy- 
pothesis. It  is  expressive  to  the  native-born,  and  be- 
come so  to  the  stranger  in  proportion  as  he  acquires  (not 
a  mere  mechanical  and  book  knowledge,  but)  a  vital 
and  vernacular  knowledge  of  it.  And  this  expressive-* 
ness  is  not  the  result  of  custom.  Apart  from  the  in- 
stinctive association  of  a  certain  word  with  a  certain 
conception,  there  is  an  instinctive  sense  of  its  intrinsic 
fitness  to  communicate  the  thought  intended — of  its  ex- 
pressiveness. For  why  should  some  words  be  more  ex- 
pressive than  others,'  if  they  all  equally  depend  upon  the 
law  of  association  for  their  significance  ?  And  why  is  a 
certain  portion  of  every  language  more  positive,  empha- 
tic, and  intense,  than  the  remaining  portions  ?  There  is 
in  every  language  a  class  of  words  which  are  its  life  and 
life-blood,  a  class  to  which  the  mind,  in  its  fervor  and 
glow,  imtinctively  betakes  itself  in  order  to  free  itself  of 
its  thoughts  in  the  most  effective  and  satisfactory  man- 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOLGIIT.  191 

iKU*.  But  this  is  irreconcilable  with  tlie  hypothesis  tiiat 
;ill  words  are  but  lifeless  signs,  acquiring  tlieir  significa- 
tion and  apparent  suitaMeness  from  use  and  custom,  and 
all  consequently  being  upon  the  same  dead  level  with 
respect  to  expressiveness. 

Still  another  proof  that  the  connection  between  lan- 
guage and  thought  is  organic,  is  found  in  the  fact  thai 
the  relation  between  the  two  is  evidently  that  of  actior 
and  reaction. 

We  have  seen  that  language  is  the  produce  of  thought 
but  this  is  not  to  be  understood  as  though  language  were 
a  mere  effect^  of  which  thought  is  the  mere  cause.  The 
mere  effect  cannot  7'eact  upon  the  pure  cause.  It  is 
thrown  off  and  away  from  its  cause  (as  the  cannon  ball 
is  from  the  cannon),  so  that  it  stands  insulated  and  in- 
dependent with  respect  to  its  origin. 

This  is  not  the  case  with  language.  Originated  by 
thought,  and  undergoing  modifications  as  thought  is  de- 
veloped, it,  in  tm-n,  exerts  a  reflex  influence  upon  its  ori- 
ginating cause.  In  proportion  as  language  is  an  exact 
■and  sincere  expression,  does  thought  itself  become  exact 
and  sincere.  The  more  appropriate  and  expressive  the 
language,  the  more  correct  will  be  the  thought,  and  the 
more  expressive  and  powerful  will  be  the  direction  which 
thought  takes. 

But  if  language  were  a  mechanical  invention,  no  such 
reaction  as  this  could  take  place  upon  the  inventor. 
While  connected  with  thought  only  by  an  arbitrary  com- 
pact on  the  part  of  those  who  made  use  of  it,  it  would 
be  separated  from  thought  by  origin  and  by  nature.  Not 
being  a  living  and  organic  product,  it  could  sustain  to 
thought  only  the  external  and  hfeless  relation  of  cause 
and  eifect,  and  consequently  would  remain  one  and  the 


4 
192  RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT. 

same  amid  all  the  life,  motion,  and  modification,  which 
the  immaterial  principle  might  undergo. 

Of  course  if  such  were  the  relation  between  the  two, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  account  for  all  that  uncon- 
scious but  real  change  ever  going  on  in  a  spoken  lan- 
guage, which  we  call  growth  and  progress.  Language 
upon  such  an  hypothesis  would  remain  stationary  in 
substance,  and  at  best  could  be  altered  only  by  aggrega- 
tion from  without.  New  words  might  be  invented  and 
added  to  the  number  already  in  existence,  but  no  change 
could  occur  in  the  spirit  of  the  language,  if  it  may  be 
allowed  to  speak  of  spirit  in  such  a  connection. 

Furthermore,  if  there  is  no  vital  relation  between  lan- 
guage and  thought,  it  would  be  absurd  to  speak  of  the 
beneficial  influence  upon  mental  development  (which  is 
but  the  development  of  thought)  of  the  study  of  philo- 
logy. If  in  strict  liter ality  the  relation  of  language  to 
thought  is  that  of  the  invention  to  the  mind  of  the  in- 
ventor, then  the  study  of  this  outward,  and  in  itself  life- 
less instrument,  would  be  of  no  worth  in  developing  an 
essence  so  intensely  vital,  so  full  of  motion,  and  with 
such  an  irrepressible  tendency  to  development,  as  the 
human  mind. 

It  is  however  a  truth  and  a  fact  that  the  study  of  a 
well  organized  language  is  one  of  the  very  best  means 
of  mental  education.  It  brings  the  mind  of  the  student 
into  communication  with  the  whole  mind  of  a  nation, 
and  infuses  into  his  culture  its  good  and  bad  elements 
— the  Avhole  genius  and  spirit  of  the  people  of  whose 
mind  it  is  the  evolution.  In  no  way  can  the  mind  of 
the  individual  be  made  to  feel  the  power  and  influence 
of  the  mind  of  the  race,  and  thereby  receive  the  greatest 
possible  enlargement  and  liberalizing,  so  well  as  by  the 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT.  193 

philosophic  study  of  language  A  rational  method  of 
education  makes  use  of  this  study  as  an  indispensable 
discipline,  and  selects  for  this  purpose  two  languages 
distinguished  for  the  intimate  relation  which  they  sus- 
tain to  the  particular  forms  of  thought  they  respectively 
express.  For  the  Greek  language  is  so  fused  and  one 
with  Grecian  thought,  that  it  is  living  to  this  day,  and 
has  been  the  source  of  life  to  literature  ever  since  its 
revival  in  the  fifteenth  century ;  and  the  rigid  but  majes- 
tic Latin  is  the  exact  embodiment  of  the  organizing  and 
imperial  ideas  of  Rome. 

These  languages  exhibit  the  changes  of  thought  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  mind.  They  take  their  form  and 
derive  their  spirit  from  the  pecLiliarities  of  these  nations. 
Hence  the  strong  and  original  influence  which  they  ex- 
ert upon  the  modern  mind.  If  these  languages  really 
contained  no  tinctiire  of  the  intellect  that  made  them 
and  made  use  of  them,  if  they  comm^unicated  none  of 
the  spirit  of  antiquity,  they  would  indeed  be  "  dead  "  lan- 
guages for  all  purposes  of  mental  enlivening  and  devel- 
ojiment. 

But  it  is  not  so.  The  Greek  and  Roman  mind  with 
all  that  passed  through  it,  whether  it  were  thought  or 
feeling,  whether  it  were  individual  or  national,  instead 
of  remaining  in  the  sphere  of  consciousness  merely,  and 
thus  being  kept  from  the  ken  of  all  after  ages,  projected 
itself,  as  it  were,  into  these  fine  languages,  into  these 
noble  forms,  and  not  only  became  a  KTrjfia  e?  del  for  man- 
kind, but  also  a  possession  with  whose  characteristics 
the  possessor  is  in  sympathy,  and  from  which  he  derives 
intellectual  nourishment  and  strength. 

A  further  j)roof  that  language  has  a  living  connection 
with  thought,  is  found  in  the  fact  that  feeling  and  passion 
suggest  language. 

17 


194       RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 

Feeling  and  passion  are  the  most  vital  of  ail  the  acti- 
vities of  the  human  soul,  flowing  as  they  do  from  the 
heart,  and  that  which  is  prompted  by  them  may  safely 
be  affirmed  to  have  life.  That  words  the  most  expres- 
sive and  powerful  fly  from  the  lips  of  the  impassioned 
thinker  is  notorious.  The  man  who  is  naturally  of  few 
words,  becomes  both  fluent  and  appropriate  in  the  use 
of  language,  when  his  mind  glows  with  his  subject  and 
feeling  is  awakened. 

But  the  use  of  language  is  the  same  in  kind  and  cha- 
racter with  its  origin.  The  processes  through  which 
language  passes  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  its 
existence  are  all  of  the  same  nature.  As  in  the  wide 
sphere  of  the  universe,  preservation  is  a  constant  crea- 
tion, and  the  things  that  are,  are  sustained  and  perpe- 
tuated on  principles  in  accordance  with  the  character 
impressed  upon  them  by  the  creative  fiat,  so  in  all  the 
narrower  spheres  of  the  finite,  the  use  and  development 
are  coincident  and  harmonious  with  the  origin  and  na- 
ture. We  may  therefore  argue  back  from  the  use  and 
development  to  the  origin  and  nature ;  and  when  we  find 
that  in  all  periods  of  its  history  human  language  is  sug- 
gested, and  that  too  in  its  most  expressive  form,  by  feel- 
ing and  passion,  we  may  infer  that  these  had  to  do  in 
its  origin,  and  have  left  something  of  themselves  in  its 
nature.  For  how  could  there  be  a  point  and  surface  of 
communication  between  words  and  feeling,  so  that  the 
latter  should  start  out  the  former  in  all  the  freshness  of  a 
new  creation,  if  there  were  no  interior  connection  be- 
tween them.  For  language  as  it  falls  from  the  lips  of 
passion  is  tremulous  with  life — with  the  life  of  the  soul 
—  and  imparts  the  life  of  the  soul  to  all  who  hear  it. 

If,  then,  in  the  actual  every-day  use  of  language,  we 
find  it  to  be  suggested  by  passion,  and  to  be  undergoing 


RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT.       195 

changes  both  in  form  and  signification,  without  the 
intervention  of  a  formal  compact  on  the  part  of  men,  it  is 
just  to  infer  that  no  such  compact  called  it  into  existence. 
U,  upon  watching  the  progress  and  growth  of  a  language, 
we  find  it  in  continual  flux  and  reflux,  and  detect  every- 
where in  it,  change  and  motion,  without  any  consciously 
directed  effort  to  this  end  on  the  part  of  those  who  speak 
it,  it  is  safe  to  infer  that  the  same  unconscious  spontane- 
ousness  characterized  it  in  its  beginning.  Moreover,  if 
in  every -day  life  we  unconsciously,  yet  really,  use 
language  not  as  a  lifeless  sign  of  our  thought,  but  believe 
that  in  employing  it  we  are  really  expressing  our  mind, 
and  furthermore,  if  we  never  in  any  way  agreed  to  use 
the  tongue  which  we  drank  in  with  our  mother's  milk, 
but  were  born  into  it  and  grew  up  into  its  use,  even  as 
we  were  born  into  and  grew  up  under  the  intellectual  and 
moral  constitution  imposed  upon  human  nature  by  its 
Creator,  we  may  safely  conclude  that  language,  too,  is  a 
provision  on  the  part  of  the  author  of  our  being,  and 
consequently  is  organic  and  alive. 

Indeed,  necessity  of  speech,  like  necessity  of  religion 
and  government  and  social  existence,  is  laid  upon  man 
by  his  constitution,  and  as  in  these  latter  instances  what- 
ever secondary  arrangements  may  be  made  by  circum- 
stances, the  primary  basis  and  central  form  is  fixed  in 
human  nature,  so  in  the  case  of  language,  whatever  may 
De  the  secondary  modifications  growing  out  of  national 
diflerences  and  peculiarities  of  vocal  organs,  the  deep 
ground  and  source  of  language  is  the  human  constitution 
itself. 

Frederick  Schlegel,  after  quoting  Schiller's  lines : 

Thy  knowledge,  thou  sharest  with  superior  spirits ; 
Art,  oh  man  !  thou  hast  alone, 


196  RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO     THOUGHT. 

calls  language  "  the  general,  all-embracing  art  of  man.'' 
This  is  truth.  For  language  is  embodiment  —  the  em- 
bodiment not  indeed  of  one  particular  idea  in  a  material 
form,  but  of  thought  at  large,  in  an  immaterial  yet  sensi- 
ble form.  And  the  fact  that  the  material  used  is  sound 
—  the  most  ethereal  of  media  —  imparts  to  this  "ail 
embracing  art"  a  spirituality  of  character  that  raises  it 
above  many  of  the  fine  arts,  strictly  so  called.  It  is  an 
embodiment  of  the  spiritual,  yet  not  in  the  coarse  ele- 
ments of  matter.  When  the  spiritual  passes  from  the 
intelligible  to  the  sensible  world  by  means  of  art,  there  is 
a  coming  down  from  the  pure  ether  and  element  of 
incorporeal  beauty  into  the  lower  sphere  of  the  defined 
and  sensuous.  The  pure  abstract  idea  necessarily  loses 
something  of  its  purity  and  abstractedness  by  becoming 
embodied.  By  coming  into  appearance  for  the  sense  it 
ceases  to  be  in  its  ineffable,  original,  highest  state  for  the 
reason  —  for  the  pure  intelligence.  Art,  therefore,  is 
degradation  —  a  stooping  to  the  limitations  and  imper- 
fections of  the  material  world  of  sense,  and  the  feeling 
awakened  by  the  form,  however  full  it  may  be  of  the  idea, 
is  not  equal  in  purity,  depth,  and  elevation,  to  the  direct 
beholding  of  the  idea  itself  in  spirit  and  in  truth.* 

We  may,  therefore,  add  to  the  assertion  of  Schlegel, 
and  say,  that  language  is  also  the  highest  art  of  man.  — 
With  the  exceptions  of  poetry  and  oratory,  all  the  fine 
arts  are  hampered  in  the  full,  free,  expression  of  the  idea 
by  the  uncomplying  material.     Poetry  and  oratory,  in 


'*■  It  is  interesting  in  this  connection  to  notice  that  the  Puritan,  though 
generally  charged  with  a  barbarian  ignorance  of  the  worth  of  art,  neverthe- 
less in  practice  took  the  only  strictly  philosophic  view  of  it.  That  stripping 
flaying  hatred  of  form,  per  se,  which  he  manifested,  grew  out  of  a  (practi- 
cally) intensely  philosophic  mind  which  clearly  saw  the  true  relation  of  the 
form  to  the  idea  —  of  the  sensible  to  the  spiritual. 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO     THOUGHT.  197 

oonimoii  with  language,  by  employing  the  most  ethereal 
of  media,  approach  as  near  as  is  possible  for  embodiments 
to  the  natm-e  of  that  which  they  embody,  but  the  latter 
is  infinitely  superior  to  the  two  former,  by  virtue  of  its 
infinitely  greater  range,  and  powder  of  exhaustive  expres- 
sion. Poetry  and  eloquence  are  confined  to  the  particu- 
lar and  individual,  wliile  language  seeks  to  embody 
thought  in  all  its  relations  and  transitions,  and  feeling  in 
all  its  manifoldness  and  depth.  The  sphere  in  which  it 
moves,  and  of  which  it  seeks  to  give  an  outward  manifes- 
tation is  the  whole  human  consciousness,  from  its  rise  in 
the  individual,  on  through  all  its  modifications  in  the 
race.  It  seeks  to  give  expression  to  an  inward  experi- 
ence, that  is  "  co-infinite  wdth  human  life  itself." 

Viewed  in  this  aspect,  human  language  ceases  to  be 
the  insignificant  and  uninteresting  phenomenon  it  is  so 
often  represented  to  be,  and  appears  in  all  its  real  mean- 
ing and  mystery.  It  is  an  organization^  as  wonderful  as 
any  in  the  realm  of  creation,  built  up  by  a  necessary  ten- 
dency of  human  nature  seeking  to  provide  for  its  wants, 
and  consh'ucted  too,  upon  the  principles  of  that  universal 
nature,  which  Sir  Thomas  Brown  truly  affirms  to  be 
"  the  art  of  God."  *  Contemplate,  for  a  moment,  the 
Greek  language  as  the  product  of  this  tendency,  and 
necessity,  to  express  his  thought  imposed  upon  man  by 
creation.  This  wonderful  structure  could  not  have  been 
put  together  by  the  cunning  contrivance,  and  adopted  by 
the  formal  consent,  of  the  nation,  and  it  certainly  was  not 
preserved  and  improved  in  this  manner.  Its  pliancy  and 
copiousness  and  precision    and   vitaUty   and   harmony, 

*  Die  philosophische  Bildung  der  Sprachen,  die  vorzuglich  noch  an  den 
urspriinglichen  sichtbar  wird,  ist  ein  wahrhaftes  durch  den  Mechanismus 
des  menschlichen  Gcistes  gewirktcs  Wunder. —  Schelling's  vom  Ich.  u.  s. 
w.  §  3. 

17* 


RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 

whereby  it  is  capable  of  expressing  all  forms  of  thought, 
from  the  simplicity  of  Herodotus  to  the  depth  of  Plato, 
are  qualities  which  the  unaided  and  mechanizing  under- 
standing of  man  could  not  have  produced.  They  grew 
spontaneously,  and  gradually,  out  of  the  fundamental 
characteristics  of  the  Grecian  mind,  and  are  the  natural 
and  pure  expression  of  Grecian  thought.  Contemplate, 
again,  our  own  mother  tongue  as  the  product  of  this 
same  foundation  for  speech  laid  in  human  nature  by  its 
constitution.  Its  native  strength  and  energy  and  vivid- 
ness, and  its  acquired  copiousness  and  harmony,  as 
exhibited  in  the  simple  artlessness  of  Chaucer,  and  "  the 
stately  and  regal  argument"  of  Milton,  are  what  might 
be  expected  to  characterize  the  Latinized  Saxon. 

A  creative  power,  deeper  and  more  truly  artistic  than 
the  inventive  understanding,  produced  these  languages. 
It  was  that  plastic  power,  by  which  man  creates  form  for 
the  forrriless,  and  which,  whether  it  show  itself  univer- 
sally in  the  production  of  a  living  language,  or  particu- 
larly in  the  works  of  the  poet  or  painter,  is  the  crowning 
power  of  humanity.  In  view  of  the  wonderful  harmo- 
nies and  symmetrical  gradations  of  these  languages,  may 
we  not  apply  the  language  of  Wordsworth : 

Point  not  these  mysteries  to  an  art 

Lodged  above  the  starry  pole, 

Pure  modulations  flowing  from  the  heart 

Of  Divine  love,  where  wisdom,  beauty,  truth, 

With  order  dwell,  in  endless  youth.  * 

We  should  not,  however,  have  a  complete  view  of  the 
relation  of  language  to  thought,  if  we  failed  to  notice 
that  in  its  best  estate  it  is  an  imperfect  expression.  — 
Philosophy  ever   labors  under  the   difficulty  of  finding 

*  Power  of  Sound. 


RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO     THOLGHT.  199 

terms  by  which  to  communicate  its  subtle  and  profound 
discoveries,  and  there  are  feelings  that  are  absolutely 
unutterable.  Especially  is  this  true  of  religious  thought 
and  feeling.  There  is  a  limit  within  this  profound 
domain  beyond  which  human  speech  cannot  go,  and  the 
hushed  and  breathless  spiiit  must  remain  absorbed  in  the 
awful  intuition.  Here,  as  throughout  the  whole  world 
of  life,  the  principle  obtains  but  an  imperfect  embodiment. 
There  is  ever  something  more  perfect  and  more  glorious 
beyond  what  appears.  The  intelligible  world  cannot  be 
entirely  exhausted,  and  therefore  it  is  the  never-failing 
source  of  substantial  principle  and  creative  life.  In  the 
case  before  us,  truth  is  entirely  exhausted  by  no  language 
whatever.  There  are  depths  not  yet  penetrated  by  con- 
sciousness, and  who  will  say  that  even  the  consciousness 
of  such  a  thinker  as  Plato  can  have  had  a  complete 
expression,  even  through  such  a  wonderful  medium  as 
the  Greek  tongue?  The  human  mind  is  connected  with 
the  Divine  mind,  and  thereby  with  the  whole  abyss  of 
truth  ;  and  hence  the  impossibility  of  completely  sounding 
even  the  human  mind,  or  of  giving  complete  utterance  to 
it ;  and  hence  the  possibility  and  the  basis  of  an  unend- 
ing development  for  the  mind  and  an  unending  gi'owth 
for  language. 

We  are  aware  that  the  charge  of  obscurity  may  be 
brought  against  the  theory  here  presented,  by  an  advo- 
cate of  the  other  theory  of  the  origin  and  nature  of 
language.  We  have  no  disposition  to  deny  the  truth  of 
the  charge,  only  adding  that  the  obscm'ity,  so  far  as  it 
pertains  to  the  theory  (in  distinction  from  the  presenta- 
tion of  the  theory,  for  which  the  individual  is  responsible,) 
is  such  as  grows  out  of  the  very  nature  and  depth  and 
absolute  truth  of  the  theory  itself.  W^e  have  gone  upon 
the   supposition   that   human   language,  as   a   form,   is 


200       RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 

neither  hollow  nor  lifeless  —  that  it  has  a  living  principle, 
and  that  this  principle  is  thought.  Now  life  is  and  must 
be  mysterious ;  and  at  no  point  more  so  than  when  it 
begins  to  organize  itself  into  a  body.  Furthermore,  the 
spontaneous,  and  to  a  great  extent,  unconscious  processes 
of  life,  are  and  must  be  mysterious.  The  method  of 
genius  —  one  of  the  highest  forms  of  life  —  in  the  pro- 
duction of  a  Hamlet,  or  Paradise  Lost,  or  the  Trans- 
figuration, has  not  yet  been  explained^  and  the  method 
of  human  nature,  by  which  it  constructs  for  itself  its 
wonderful  medium  of  communication  —  by  which  it 
externalizes  the  whole  inner  world  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing—  cannot  be  rendered  plain  like  the  working  of  a 
well  poised  and  smoo.thly  running  machine  throwing  off 
its  manufactures. 

Simply  asking  then  of  him  who  would  render  all  things 
clear  by  readering  all  things  shallow,  by  ivhom,  when, 
ivhere,  and  hoiv,  the  Greek  language,  for  example,  was 
invented,  and  by  what  historical  compact  it  came  to  be 
the  language  of  the  nation,  we  would  turn  away  to  that 
nobler,  more  exciting,  and  more  rational  theory,  which 
regards  language  to  be  "  a  necessary  and  organic  product 
of  human  nature,  appearing  contemporaneously  and 
parallel  with  the  activity  of  thought."  This  theory  of 
the  origin  of  language  throws  light  over  all  departments 
of  the  great  subject  of  philology,  finds  its  gradual  and 
unceasing  verification  as  philological  science  advances 
under  a  spur  and  impulse  derived  from  this  very  theory, 
and  ends  in  that  philosophical  insight  into  language, 
which,  after  all,  is  but  the  clear  and  full  intuition  of  its 
mystery  —  of  its  life. 

Having  thus  specified  the  general  relation  of  language 
to  thought,  we  naturally  turn  to  the  uses  and  applications 
of  the  theory  itself.     Its  truth,  value,  and  fruitfulness,  are 


RELATION  OF  STYLE  TO  THOUGHT.         201 

nowhere  more  apparent  than  in  the  department  of  Rhe- 
toric and  Criticism.  For  this  department  takes  special 
cognizance  of  the  more  living  and  animated  forms  of 
speech  —  of  the  glow  of  the  poet,  and  the  fire  of  the 
orator.  It  also  investigates  all  those  peculiarities  of  con- 
struction, and  form,  in  human  composition  that  spring  out 
of  individual  characteristics.  It  is,  therefore,  natural  to 
suppose  that  a  theory  of  language  which  recognizes  a 
power  in  human  thought  to  organize  and  vivify  and 
modify  the  forms  in  which  it  appears,  will  afford  the  best 
light  in  which  to  examine  those  forms ;  just  as  it  is 
natural  to  suppose  that  the  commonly  received  theory 
of  physical  life,  will  furnish  a  better  light  in  which  to 
examine  vegetable  and  animal  productions.  Than  a  theory 
like  that  of  Descartes,  e.  g.  which  maintains  that  the 
forms  and  functions  in  the  animal  kingdom  are  the 
result  of  a  mechanical  principle.  Life  itself  is  the  best 
light  in  which  to  contemplate  living  things. 

We  propose  therefore  in  the  remainder  of  this  essay  to 
follow  the  same  general  method  already  pursued,  and 
examine  the  nature  of  style,  by  pointing  out  its  relation 
to  thought. 

Style  is  the  particular  manner  in  which  thought  flows 
out,  in  the  case  of  the  individual  mind,  and  upon  a  par- 
ticular subject.  When,  therefore,  it  has,  as  it  always 
should  have,  a  free  and  spontaneous  origin,  it  partakes 
of  the  peculiarity  both  of  the  individual  and  of  the  topic 
upon  which  he  thinks.  A  genuine  style,  therefore,  is  the 
free  and  pure  expression  of  the  individuality  of  the 
thinker  and  the  speciality- of  the  subject  of  thought. — 
Uniformity  of  style  is  consequently  found  in  the  produc- 
tions of  the  same  general  cast  of  mind,  applied  to  the 
same  general  class  of  subjects,  so  that  there  is  no  dis- 
tinguishable period  in  the  history  of  a  nation's  literature, 


202  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

but  what  exhibits  a  style  of  its  own.  The  spirit  of  the 
age  appears  in  the  general  style  of  its  literary  composi- 
tion, and  the  spirit  of  the  individual  —  the  tone  of  his 
mind — nowhere  comes  out  more  clearly  than  in  his 
manner  of  handhng  a  subject.  The  grave,  lofty,  and 
calm,  style  of  the  Elizabethan  age  is  an  exact  representa- 
tion of  the  spirit  of  its  thinking  men.  The  intellectual 
temperament  of  the  age  of  Queen  Anne  flows  out  in  the 
clear,  but  diffuse  and  nerveless,  style  of  the  essayists. 

From  this  it  is  easy  to  see  that  style,  like  language, 
has  a  spontaneous  and  natural  origin,  and  a  living  con- 
nection with  thought.  It  is  not  a  manner  of  composing, 
arbitrarily  or  even  designedly  chosen,  but  rises  of  its  own 
accord,  and  in  its  own  way,  in  the  general  process  of 
mental  development.  The  more  unconscious  its  origin, 
and  the  more  strongly  it  partakes  of  the  individuality  of 
Ihe  mind,  the  more  genuine  is  style.  Only  let  it  be  care- 
fully observed  in  this  connection,  that  a  pure  and  sincere 
expression  of  the  individual  peculiarity  is  intended.  Af- 
fectation of  originality  and  studied  effort  after  peculiarity 
produce  mannerism^  in  distinction  from  that  manner  of 
])ure  nature,  which  alone  merits  the  name  of  style. 

If  this  be  true,  it  is  evident  that  the  union  of  all  styles, 
or  of  a  portion  of  them,  would  not  constitute  a  perfect 
style.  On  the  contrary,  the  excellence  of  style  consists 
in  its  having  a  bold  and  determined  character  of  its 
own  —  in  its  bearing  the  genuine  image  and  superscrip- 
tion of  an  individual  mind  at  work  upon  a  particular 
subject.  In  a  union  of  many  different  styles,  there  would 
be  nothing  simple,  bold,  and  individual.  The  union 
would  be  a  mixture,  rather  than  a  union,  in  which  each 
ingredient  would  be  neutralized  by  all,  and  all  by  each, 
ing  a  residuum  characterless,  spiritless,  and  lifeless. 

Style,  in   proportion  as  it  is  genuine  and  excellent,  is 


leav] 


RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  203 

sincere  and  artless.  It  is  the  free  and  unconscious  ema- 
nation of  the  individual  nature.  It  alters  as  the  individ- 
ual alters.  In  early  life  it  is  ardent  and  adorned;  iu 
mature  life  it  is  calm  and  grave.  In  youth  it  is  Unshed 
with  fancy  and  feeling ;  in  manhood  it  is  sobered  by  rea- 
son and  reflection.  But  in  both  periods  it  is  the  genu- 
ine expression  of  the  man.  The  gay  manner  of  L' Alle- 
gro and  Comus  is  as  truly  natural  and  spontaneous,  as 
the  grave  and  stately  style  of  Paradise  Regained  and 
Samson  Agonistes.  The  individuality  of  a  man  like  Mil- 
ton passes  through  great  varieties  of  culture  and  of  mood, 
and  there  is  seen  a  corresponding  variety  in  the  ways  in 
which  it  communicates  itself;  yet  through  this  variety 
there  runs  the  unity  of  nature ;  each  sort  of  style  is  the 
sincere  and  pure  manner  of  the  same  individual  taken  in 
a  particular  stage  of  his  development. 

No  one  style,  therefore,  can  be  said  to  be  the  best  of 
all  absolutely,  but  only  relatively.  That  is  the  best  style 
relatively  to  the  individual,  in  which  his  particular  cast 
of  thought  best  utters  itself,  and  in  which  the  peculiarity 
of  the  individual  has  the  fullest  and  freest  play.  That 
may  be  called  a  good  style  generally,  in  which  every 
word  tells  —  in  which  the  language  is  full  of  thought, 
and  aUve  with  thought,  and  so  fresh  and  vigorous  as  to 
seem  to  have  been  just  created  —  while  at  the  same  time 
the  characteristics  of  the  mind  that  is  pouring  out  in  this 
particular  manner,  are  all  in  every  part,  as  the  construct- 
ing and  vivifying  principle. 

The  truth  of  this  view  of  style  is  both  confirmed  and 
illustiated  by  considering  the  unity  in  variety  exhibited 
by  the  human  mind  itself.  The  mind  of  man  is  one  and 
the  same  in  its  constitution  and  necessary  laws,  so  that 
the  human  race  may  be  said  to  be  possessed  of  one  uni- 
versal intelligence.     In  the  language  of  one  of  the  most 


204  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

elegant  and  philosophic  of  English  critics,*  "  It  is  no  un- 
pleasing  speculation  to  see  how  the  same  reason^  has  at 
all  times  prevailed :  how  there  is  one  truths  like  one  sun, 
that  has  enlightened  human  intelligence  through  every 
age,  and  saved  it  from  the  darkness  of  sophistry  and 
error."  Upon  this  sameness  of  intelligence  rest  all  abso- 
lute statements,  and  all  universal  appeals.  Over  against 
this  universal  human  mind,  as  its  corresponding  object 
and  counterpart,  stands  truth,  universal  in  its  nature  and 
one  and  the  same  in  its  essence. 

But  besides  this  unity  of  the  universal,  there  is  the 
variety  of  the  individual,  mind.  Truth,  consequently, 
coming  into  consciousness  in  the  form  of  thought  in  an 
individual  mind,  undergoes  modifications.  It  is  now 
contemplated  not  as  universal  and  abstract,  but  as  con- 
crete and  in  its  practical  relations.  It  is,  moreover,  seen, 
not  as  an  unity,  but  in  its  parts,  and  one  side  at  a  time. 
Philosophical  truth  in  Plato  differs  from  philosophical 
truth  in  Aristotle,  by  a  very  marked  modification.  Poet- 
ical truth  is  one  thing  in  Homer  and  another  in  Virgil. 
Religious  truth  assumes  a  strikingly  different  form  in 
Paul  and  Luther,  from  that  which  it  wears  in  John  and 
Melanchthon.  And  yet  poetry,  philosophy,  and  religion, 
have  each  their  universal  principles  —  their  one  abstract 
nature.  Each,  however,  appears  in  the  form  imposed 
upon  it  by  the  individual  mind ;  each  wears  that  tinge 
of  the  mind  through  which  it  has  passed,  which  is  de- 
nominated style. 

No  man  has  yet  appeared  whose  individuality  was  so 
comprehensive  and  universal,  and  who  was  such  a  mas- 
ter of  form,  that  he  exhausted  the  whole  material  of 
poetry,  or  philosophy,  or  religion,  and  exhibited  it  in  a  style 

*  Harris.    Preface  to  Hermes. 


RKr-ATIO\    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  205 

and  form  absolutely  universal  and  final.  Enough  is  ever 
left  of  truth,  oven  aft(T  the  most  comprehensive  presenta- 
tion, for  another  individuality  to  show  it  in  still  a  new 
and  original  form.  For  there  is  no  limit  to  the  manner 
of  contemplating  infinite  and  universal  truth.  Provided 
only  there  be  a  peculiarity  —  a  particular  type  of  the  hu- 
man mind  —  there  will  be  a  peculiarity  of  intuition,  and 
consequently  of  exhibition. 

The  most  comprehensive  and  universal  individual 
mind  was  that  of  Shakspeare,  and  hence  his  productions 
have  less  of  style,  of  peculiar  manner,  than  all  other  lite- 
rary productions.  Who  can  describe  the  style  of  Shak- 
speare ?  Who  is  aw^are  of  his  style  ?  The  style  of  Mil- 
ton is  apparent  in  every  line,  for  he  was  one  of  the  most 
sin-generic  of  men.  But  the  form  which  truth  takes  in 
Shakspeare,  is  as  comprehensive  and  universal  as  the 
drama,  as  all  mankind.  This  is  owing  to  that  Protean 
power  by  which,  for  the  purposes  of  dramatic  art,  he  con- 
verts himself  into  other  men,  takes  their  consciousness, 
and  thereby  temporarily  loses  his  own  limited  individual- 
ity. But  that  Shakspeare  was  an  individual,  that  a  pecu- 
liar type  of  humanity  formed  the  basis  of  his  personal 
being,  and  that  he  had  a  style  of  thought  of  his  own,  it 
would  be  absurd  to  doubt.  And  had  he  attempted  other 
species  of  composition  than  the  drama,  (which  by  its 
very  nature  requires  that  the  individuality  of  the  author 
be  sunk  and  lost  entirely  in  the  various  characters,)  had 
he  taken,  like  Milton,  a  particular  theme  as  the  "  great 
argument"  for  his  poetic  power,  doubtless  the  ma/i,  the 
individual^  would  have  come  into  sight.* 

*  In  corroboration  of  this,  it  may  be  remarked  that  we  have  far  more 
sense  of  the  individuality  of  Shakspeare,  wliile  perusing  his  poems  and 
sonnets,  than  while  studying  his  dramas. 

18 


206  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

Style  of  expression  thus  springing  out  of  the  style  of 
thought,  is  therefore  immediately  connected  with  the 
structure  and  character  of  the  individual  mind.  It  con- 
sequently has  an  unconscious  origin.  On  the  basis  laid 
in  the  individual's  characteristics,  and  by  and  through  the 
individual's  mental  growth,  his  manner  of  expression  is 
formed.  There  is  a  certain  style  which  fits  the  individ- 
ual—  which,  and  no  other,  is  his  style.  It  is  that  man- 
ner of  presenting  thought,  into  which  he  naturally  falls, 
when  his  mind  is  deeply  absorbed  in  a  subject,  and  when 
he  gives  no  heed  to  the  form  into  which  his  thought  is 
running. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  from  this,  that  style  has  no  con- 
nection with  culture.  It  has  a  most  immediate  and  vital 
connection  with  the  individual's  education.  Not  only  all 
that  he  is  by  nature,  but  all  that  he  becomes  by  culture, 
tends  to  form  his  style  of  thought  and  expression ;  but, 
be  it  observed,  unconsciously  to  him.  For  an  incessant 
aim,  a  conscious,  anxious  effort  to  form  a  given  style,  is 
the  destruction  of  style.  Under  such  an  inspection  and 
oversight.  Nature  cannot  work,  even  if  the  mind  under 
such  circumstances,  could  absorb  itself  in  the  theme  of 
reflection.  There  must  be  no  consciousness  during  the 
time  and  process  of  composing,  but  of  the  subject.  The 
subject  being  all  in  all,  for  the  thinker,  the  form  into 
which  his  thought  runs,  with  all  the  modification  and 
coloring  which  it  really,  though  unconscioushj  to  him, 
receives  from  his  individuafism,  and  from  the  whole  past 
of  his  education,  is  his  style  —  his  genuine  and  true  man- 
ner. 

The  point  to  be  observed  here  is,  that  style  is  the  con- 
sequent^ so  far  as  it  is  related  to  culture.  For,  the  culture 
itself  takes  its  direction  and  character  from  the  original 
tendeney  of  the  individual,  (for  every  one  in  the  end  ob- 


RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  207 

Tains  a  mental  development  coincident  with  his  mental 
bias,)  and  style  is  but  the  unconscious  manifestation  of 
this  culture.  Style  —  geimine  style  —  can  never  be  the 
conscious  antecedent  of  culture.  It  cannot  be  first 
selected,  and  then  the  whole  individuality  of  the  mind, 
and  the  whole  course  of  education,  be  forced  to  contri- 
bute to  its  reahzation.  One  cannot  antecedently  choose 
the  style  of  Burke,  e.  g.  as  that  which  he  would  have  for 
his  own,  and  then  deliberately  realize  his  choice.  It  is 
true  that  a  mind  similar  to  that  of  Burke  in  its  structure, 
and  in  sympathy  with  him  through  a  similarly  fruitful 
and  opulent  culture,  would  spontaneously  form  its  style 
upon,  and  with,  his.  But  the  process,  in  this  case,  would 
not  be  a  deliberate  and  conscious  imitation,  but  an  un- 
conscious and  genial  reproduction.  It  would  be  the  con- 
sequent of  nature  and  of  culture,  and  not  the  antecedent. 
The  individual  would  not  distinctly  know  that  his  was 
the  style  of  Burke,  until  it  became  apparent  to  others 
that  it  actually  was. 

Here,  too,  as  in  every  sphere  in  which  the  living  soul 
of  man  works,  do  we  find  the  genuine  and  beautiful  pro- 
duct originating  freely,  spontaneously,  and  unconscious- 
ly. Freely,  for  it  might  have  been  a  false  and  deformed 
product,  yet  spontaneously  and  unconsciously,  for  it  can- 
not be  the  subject  of  reflection  and  matter  of  distinct 
knowledge  until  after  it  has  come  into  existence.  By 
the  thronging  stress  and  tendency  of  the  human  soul, 
which  is  so  created  as  to  contain  within  itself  the  princi- 
ple and  direction  of  its  own  movement,  is  the  product 
originated,  which  then,  and  not  till  then,  is  the  possible 
and  legitimate  subject  of  consciousness,  analysis,  and 
criticism.  Tiie  style  of  a  thinking  mind  is  no  exception 
to  this  uniytj-sdl  law.  It  is  formed,  when  formed  accord- 
ing to  nutLiie —  s\'heii  formed  as  it  was  destined  to  be, 


208  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

by  that  creative  idea  which  prescribes  the  whole  never- 
ending  development  of  the  creature  —  it  is  formed  out 
of  what  is  laid  in  the  individual  constitution,  and  through 
what  is  brought  in  by  the  individual  culture,  uncon- 
sciously to  the  subject  of  the  process,  and  yet  freely,  so 
far  as  his  nature  and  constitution  are  concerned. 

If  the  view  that  has  been  taken  of  style,  be  correct,  it 
is  evident,  that  in  the  form^ation  of  style,  no  attempt 
should  be  made  to  change  the  fundamental  character 
imposed  upon  it  by  the  individual  constitution.  The 
type  is  fixed  by  nature,  and  no  one  should  strive,  by  forc- 
ing nature,  to  obtain  a  manner  essentially  alien  and  foreign 
to  him.  The  sort  of  style  which  belongs  to  the  individual 
by  his  intellectual  constitution  is  to  be  taken  as  given. 
The  direction  which  all  culture  in  this  relation  takes, 
should  proceed  from  this  as  a  point  of  departure,  and  all 
discipline  and  eflbrt  should  end  in  an  acquisition  that  is 
homoo^eneous  wdth  this  substantial  irround  of  style.  Or 
still  more  accurately,  the  individuality  itself  is  to  be 
deepened  and  made  more  capacious  and  distinct,  by  cul- 
ture, and  is  then  to  be  poured  forth  in  that  hearty  wicon- 
scions  purity  of  manner  which  is  its  proper  and  genuine 
style. 

And  this  leads  us  to  consider  the  true  method  of  form- 
ing and  cultivating  style. 

If  the  general  view  that  has  been  presented  of  the  na- 
ture both  of  language  and  style  be  correct,  it  is  plain  that 
the  mind  itself,  rather  than  the  style  itself,  should  receive 
the  formation  and  the  cultivation.  Both  language  and 
siyle  are  but  forms  in  which  the  human  mind  embodies 
its  thought,  and  therefore  the  mincl^  considered  as  the 
originating  power  —  as  that  which  is  to  find  an  utter- 
ance and  expression  —  should  be  the  chief  object  of  cul- 
ture, even  in  relation  to  style.     A  cultivated  mind  con- 


RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  209 

tains  within  itself  resources  sufficient  for  all  its  purposes. 
The  direct  cultivation  of  the  mind,  is  the  indirect  culti- 
vation of  all  that  stands  connected  with  it. 

And  this  is  eminently  true  of  the  formal,  in  distinction 
from  the  material  departments  of  knowledge  —  of  those 
"  organic  (or  instrumental)  arts,"  as  Milton  calls  them, 
"  which  enable  men  to  discourse  and  write  perspicuously, 
elegantly,  and  according  to  the  fitted  style  of  lofty,  mean 
or  lowly."  For  inasmuch  as  these  formal  departments 
of  knowledge  are  not  self-sufficient,  but  derive  their  sub- 
stance from  the  material  departments,  it  is  plain  that 
they  can  be  cultivated  with  power  and  success  only 
through  the  cultivation  of  these  latter.  Rhetoric,  in  or- 
der to  be  anything  more  than  an  idle  play  with  words 
and  figures  of  speech — in  order  to  a  substantial  existence, 
and  an  energetic  power  —  must  spring  out  of  logic  ;  and 
logic  again,  in  order  to  be  something  more  than  a  dry 
and  useless  permutation  of  the  members  of  syllogisms, 
must  be  grounded  in  the  necessary  laws  of  thought,  and 
so  become  but  the  inevitable  and  the  living  movement 
of  reason.  Thus  are  we  led  in  from  the  external  to  the 
internal  as  the  solid  ground  of  action  and  origination, 
and  are  made  to  see  that  the  culture  must  begin  here,  in 
every  instance,  and  work  out.  All  these  arts  and  sci- 
ences are  the  architecture  of  the  rational  and  thinking 
mind  of  man,  and  all  changes  in  them,  either  in  the  way 
of  growth  or  decline,  proceed  from  a  change  that  has 
first  taken  place  in  their  originating  ground.  They  are 
in  reality  the  index  of  the  human  mind,  and  show  with 
most  delicate  sensibility  all  that  is  passing,  in  this  ever- 
moving  principle.  What  are  the  languages  literatures, 
laws,  governments,  and  (with  one  exception)  religions 
of  the  globe  but  the  history  of  the  human  mind  —  the 
outstanding  monument  of  what  it  has  thought ! 

18* 


210  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

It  may  be  said  with  perfect  truth,  therefore,  that  the 
formation  and  cultivation  of  the  mind,  is  the  true  method 
of  forming  and  cultivating  style.  And  there  are  two 
qualities  in  mental  culture  which  exert  such  a  direct  and 
powerful  influence  upon  style  as  to  merit  in  this  connec- 
tion a  particular  and  close  examination.  They  are  depth 
and  clearness. 

(1)  By  depth  of  culture  is  meant  that  development  of 
the  mind  from  its  centre^  which  enables  it  to  exert  its 
very  best  power,  and  to  accomplish  the  utmost  of  which 
it  is  capable.  The  individual  mind  differs  in  respect  to 
innate  capacity.  Some  men  are  created  with  a  richer 
and  more  powerful  intellectual  constitution  than  others. 
But  all  are  capable  of  a  jyrofound  culture  ;  of  a  develop- 
ment that  shall  bring  out  the  entire  contents  and  capacity 
be  they  more  or  less.  By  going  to  the  centre  of  the 
mind  —  by  setting  into  play  those  profounder  faculties 
which  though  differing  in  degree,  are  yet  the  same  in 
kind,  in  every  man  —  a  culture  is  attained  that  exerts  a 
most  powerful  and  excellent  influence  upon  style.  Such 
mental  education  gives  bodij  to  style.  It  furnishes  the 
material  which  is  to  fill  the  language  and  solidify  the 
discourse.  The  form  in  which  a  profoundly  cultivated 
mind  expresses  itself  is  never  hollow ;  the  language 
which  it  employs  not  being  alone  —  mere  words  —  is 
never  dead.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  silent  at  times,  for  such 
a  mind  is  not  necessarily  fluent,  but  when  it  does  speak, 
the  product  has  a  marked  character.  The  thought  and 
its  expression  form  an  identity ;  are  coined  at  one  stroke. 

For  a  deeply  educated  mind  spontaneously  seeks  to 
know  truth  in  its  reality,  and  to  express  it  in  its  simplicity. 
Unconsciously,  because  it  is  its  nature  to  do  so,  it  pene- 
trates to  the  heart  of  a  subject,  and  discourses  upon  it 
with  a  simplicity  and  directness  which   precludes  any 


RELATION    or    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  211 

separation  between  the  thought  and  the  words  in  which 
it  is  conveyed.  The  mind  which  has  but  a  superficial 
knowledge  of  the  subject-matter  of  its  discourse  cannot 
render  the  language  it  em})loys  consiibstantial  with  its 
thought.  We  feel  that  the  words  have  been  hunted  vp 
by  a  vacant  mind,  instead  oi  prompted  by  a  full  one. — 
Thouglit  and  language  stand  apart,  because  thought  has 
not  reached  that  degree  of  profundity,  and  that  point  of 
clear  intuition,  and  that  height  of  energy,  in  conscious- 
ness, at  which  it  utters  itself  in  language  that  is  truly 
one  with  itself,  and  alive  with  itself.  Whenever  a  pro- 
foundly cultivated  mind  directs  itself  to  an  object  of 
contemplation  it  becomes  identical  with  it,  while  in  the 
act  of  contemplation.  The  distinction  between  the  con- 
templating subject,  and  the  contemplated  object,  vanishes 
for  the  time  being ;  the  mind,  as  we  say  popularly,  and 
yet  with  strict  philosophic  truth,  is  lost  in  the  theme,  and 
the  theme  during  this  temporary  process,  becomes  but  a 
particular  state  of  the  mind.  The  object  of  contempla- 
tion, which  at  first  was  before  the  mind  is  now  in  the 
mind;  that  to  which  the  mind  came  up  as  to  a  thing 
objective  and  extant,  has  now  been  transmuted  into  the 
very  consciousness  of  the  mind  itself,  and  is  therefore  the 
mind  itself,  taken  and  held  in  this  temporarij  process* 
It   follows,   consequently,  that  the   style    in    which    this 


*  The  doctrine  of  the  identity  of  subject  and  object  in  tlie  act  of  conscious- 
ness is  a  true  and  safe  one,  it  seems  to  us,  only  when  stated  with  ilie  limi- 
tation above ;  only  when  the  identity  is  regarded  as  merely  relative  —  as 
existing  only  ?h,  anddurintj  the  act  of  consciousness.  If,  however,  the  identity 
is  regarded  as  absolute  and  essential  —  if  it  be  asserted  that,  apart  from  con- 
sciousness and  back  of  consciousness,  the  subject  and  object,  the  mind  and 
the  truth,  are  absolutely  but  one  essence  —  then  we  see  no  difference  between 
the  doctrine  and  that  of  the  "  substantia  una  et  unica"  of  Spinoza.  The 
identity  in  this  case,  notwithstanding  the  disclaimer  of  SchcUiiig,  is  same- 
ness of  substance,  and  there  is  but  one  substance  in   the  nni verse.     The 


212  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

fusion  of  truth  with  intellect  flows  out,  must  be  as  near 
the  perfection  of  form  as  it  can  be.  The  style  of  such  a 
mind  is  similar  to  the  style  of  the  Infinite  mind,  as  it  is 
seen  in  nature.  It  is  characterized  by  the  simplicity  and 
freedom  of  nature  itself  Nor  let  this  be  regarded  either 
as  irreverent  or  extravagant.  We  are  confessedly  within 
the  sphere  of  the  finite  and  the  created,  and  therefore  are 
at  an  infinite  remove  from  Him  "  who  is  wonderful  in 
working,"  and  yet  there  is  something  strongly  resembling 
the  workings  of  creative  power,  in  the  operations  of  a 
mind  deeply  absorbed  in  truth  and  full  of  the  idea.  As 
the  Divine  idea  becomes  a  phenomenon  —  manifests  itself 
in  external  nature  —  by  its  own  movement  and  guidance, 
it  necessarily  assumes  the  very  perfection  of  manner. — 
The  great  attributes  of  nature,  the  sublimity  and  beauty 
of  creation,  arise  from  the  oneness  of  the  form  with  the 
idea — the  transfusion  of  mind  into  matter.  In  like 
manner,  though  in  an  infinitely  lower  sphere  and  degree, 
the  human  idea,  profound,  full,  and  clear  in  conscious- 
ness, throws  itself  out  into  language,  in  a  style,  free, 
simple,  beautiful,  and,  it  may  be,  sublime  like  nature 
itself.  And  all  this  arises  because  thought  does  its  own 
perfect  work  —  because  truth  arrived  at  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  profound  thinker  is  simply  suffered  to  exercise 
its  own  vitality,  and  to  organize  itself  into  existence.  It 
is  not  so  much  because  the  individual  makes  an  efibrt  to 
embody  the  results  of  his  meditation,  as  because  these 
results  have  their  own  way,  and  take  their  own  form, 
that  the  style  of  their  appearance  is  so  grand.  It  has 
been  asserted  above,  that  style,  in  its  most  abstract  defi- 
nition, is  the  universal  appearing  in  the  particular,     in 

ti-uth  is,  that  subject  and  object  are  not,  absolutely,  one  essence,  but  two  ; 
but  become  one  temporarily,  in  the  act  of  consciousness,  by  virtue  of  a 
homogeneity  rather  than  an  absolute  identity,  of  essence. 


RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  213 

other  wordt^,  it  is  the  particular  and  peculiar  manner  in 
which  the  individual  mind  conceives  and  expresses  truth, 
which  is  universal.  Now  it  is  only  by  and  through  depth 
of  mental  cultivation,  that  truth,  in  its  absolute  reality 
and  in  its  vital  energy,  is  reached  at  all.  A  superficial 
education  never  reaches  the  heart  of  a  subject  —  never 
brings  the  mind  into  contact  and  fusion  with  the  real 
substance  of  the  topic  of  discourse.  Of  course,  a  mind 
thus  superficially  educated  in  reality  has  nothing  to 
express.  It  has  not  reached  that  depth  of  apprehension, 
that  central  point  where  the  solid  and  real  truth  hes,  at 
which,  and  only  at  w^hich,  it  is  qualified  to  discourse. — 
It  may,  it  is  true,  speak  about  the  given  topic,  but  before 
it  can  speak  it  oat,  in  a  gi'and,  impressive  style,  and  in 
discourse  which,  while  it  is  weighty  and  solid,  also  dilates 
and  thrills  and  glows  with  the  living  verity,  it  must,  by 
deep  thought,  have  effected  that  mental  union  with  it  of 
which  we  have  spoken. 

A  mind,  on  the  contrary,  that  has  received  a  central 
development,  and  whose  power  of  contemplation  is 
strong,  instead  of  working  at  the  surface,  and  about  the 
accidents,  strikes  down  into  the  heart  and  essence,  and 
obtains  an  actual  view  of  truth;  and  under  the  impulse 
imparted  by  it,  and  by  the  light  radiated  from  it  at  all 
points,  simply  represents  it.  In  all  this  there  is  no  effort 
at  expression  —  no  endeavor  at  style  —  on  the  part  of 
the  individual.  He  is  but  the  medium  of  communication, 
now  that,  by  his  own  voluntary  thought,  the  union 
between  his  mind  and  truth  has  been  brought  about. — 
All  that  he  needs  to  do  is,  to  absorb  himself  still  more 
profoundly  in  the  great  theme,  and  to  let  it  use  him  as 
its  organ.  It  will  flow  through  his  individualism,  and 
take  form  and  hue  from  it,  as  inevitably  as  the  formless 


214  RELATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

and  colorless  light,  acquires  both  form  and  color  by  com- 
ing into  the  beautiful  arch  of  the  sky. 

(2)  By  clearness,  as  an  element  in  culture,  is  meant 
such  an  education  of  the  mind,  as  arms  it  with  a  pene- 
trating and  clear  vision,  so  that  it  beholds  objects  in  dis- 
tinct outline.  When  united  with  depth  of  culture,  this 
element  is  of  great  worth,  and  diffuses  through  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  mind  some  of  the  most  desirable  quali- 
ties. Depth,  without  clearness  of  intuition,  is  obscurity. 
Though  there  may  be  substantial  thinking,  and  real  truth 
may  be  reached  by  the  mind,  yet  like  the  v\r]  out  of 
which  the  material  universe  was  formed,  according  to 
the  ancient  philosophy,  it  needs  to  be  irradiated  by  light, 
before  it  becomes  a  defined,  distinct,  and  beautiful  form. 
Indeed,  without  clearness  of  intui*tion,  truth  must  remain 
in  the  depths  of  the  mind,  and  cannot  be  really  express- 
ed. The  mind,  without  close  and  clear  thinking,  is  but 
a  dark  chaos  of  ideas,  intimations,  and  feelings.  It  is 
true,  that  in  these  is  the  substance  of  truth,  for  the  hu- 
man mind  is,  by  its  constitution,  full  of  trnth ;  yet  these 
its  contents  need  to  be  elaborated.  These  undefined 
ideas  need  to  become  clear  conceptions ;  these  dark  and 
pregnant  intimations  need  to  be  converted  into  substan- 
tial verities  ;  and  these  swelling  but  vague  feelings  must 
acquire  definition  and  shape  ;  not  merely  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  one  mind  may  be  conveyed  over  into  that 
of  another,  but  also  in  order  to  the  mind's  full  under- 
standing of  itself. 

And  such  culture  manifests  itself  in  the  purity  and 
perspicuity  of  the  style  in  which  it  conveys  its  thoughts. 
Having  a  distinctly  clear  apprehension  of  truth,  the  mind 
utters  its  conceptions  with  all  that  simplicity  and  perti- 
nence of  language  which  characterizes  the  narrative  of 


RELATION  OF  STYLE  TO  THOUGHT.         215 

an  honest  eye-witness.  Nothing  intervenes  between 
thought  and  expression.  The  clear,  direct,  view,  instan- 
taneously becomes  the  clear,  direct,  statement.  And 
when  the  clear  conception  is  thus  united  with  the  pro- 
found intuition,  thought  assumes  its  most  perfect  form. 
The  form  in  which  it  appears,  is  full  and  round  with 
solid  truth,  and  yet  distinct  and  transparent.  The  im- 
material principle  is  embodied  in  just  the  right  amount 
of  matter;  the  former  does  not  overflow,  nor  does  the 
latter  overlay.  The  discourse  exhibits  the  same  oppo- 
site and  counterbalancing  excellencies  which  we  see  in 
the  forms  of  nature — the  simplicity  and  the  richness,  the 
negligence  and  the  niceness,  the  solid  opacity  and  the 
aerial  transparence.* 

'*  Shakspeare  affords  innumerable  exemplifications  of  the  characteristic 
here  spoken  of.  In  the  following  passages  notice  the  puritij  and  cleanliness 
of  the  style  in  which  he  exhibits  his  thought.  As  in  a  perfect  embodiment 
in  nature,  there  is  nothing  ragged,  or  to  be  sloughed  off: 

#  *        *         Chaste  as  the  icicle 
That's  curded  by  the  frost  from  purest  snow, 
And  hangs  on  Dian's  temple. 

Coriolamis,  V.  3. 

*  *        *        *        *        This  hand 
As  soft  as  dove's  down,  and  as  white  as  it; 
Or  Ethiopian's  tooth,  or  the  fann'd  snow. 
That's  bolted  by  the  northern  blasts  twice  o'er. 

Winter's  Tale,  IV.  3. 

Or  if  that  surly  spirit,  melancholy, 

Had  baked  thy  blood,  and  made  it  heavy,  thick ; 

Which  else  runs  tickling  up  and  down  the  veins. 

King  John,  III.  3. 

And  I,  of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched. 
That  sucked  the  honey  of  his  music  vows. 
Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason, 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tunc,  and  harsh. 

HamlcL  III.  I, 


216  RELATIOxN    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT. 

It  is  rare  to  find  such  a  union  of  the  two  main  ele- 
ments of  culture,  and  consequently  rare  to  find  them  in 
6tyle.  A  profoundly  contemplative  mind  is  often  mystic 
and  vague  in  its  discourse,  because  it  has  not  come  to  a 
clear,  as  well  as  profound,  consciousness — because  dis- 
tinctness, has  not  gone  along  with  depth,  of  apprehen- 
sion. The  discourse  of  such  a  mind  is  thoughtful  and 
suggestive  it  may  be,  but  is  lacking  in  that  scientific, 
logical,  power  which  penetrates  and  illumihes.  It  has 
warmth  and  glow,  it  may  be,  but  it  is  the  warmth  of  the 
stove  (to  use  the  comparison  of  another) — ^warmth  with- 
out light. 

On  the  other  hand  it  often  happens  that  the  culture 
of  the  mind  is  clear  but  shallow.  In  this  case  nothing 
but  the  merest  and  most  obvious  commonplace  is  utter- 
ed, in  a  manner  intelligible  and  plain  enough  to  be  sure, 
but  without  force  or  weight,  or  even  genuine  fire,  of 
style.  Shallow  waters  show  a  very  clear  bottom,  and 
but  little  intensity  of  light  is  needed  in  order  to  display 
the  pebbles  and  clean  sand.  That  must  be  a  "  purest 
ray  serene  " — a  pencil  of  strongest  light — which  discloses 
the  black,  rich,  wreck-strown  depths.  For  the  clearness 
of  depth  is  very  different  from  the  clearness  of  shallow- 
ness. The  former  is  a  positive  quality.  It  is  the  posi- 
tive and  powerful  irradiation  of  that  which  is  solid  and 
dark,  by  that  which  is  ethereal  and  light.  The  latter  is 
a  negative  quality.  It  is  the  mere  absence  of  darkness, 
because  there  is  no  substance  to  be  dark — no  body  in 
which  (if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression)  darkness 
can  inhere.  Nothing  is  more  luminous  than  solid  fire ; 
nothing  is  more  flashy  than  an  ignited  void. 

Tliese  two  fundamental  characteristics  of  mental  cul- 
ture, lie  at  the  foundation  of  style.  Even  if  the  second- 
ary qualities  of  style  could  exist,  without  the  weightiness 


RKLATION    OF    STYLE    TO    THOUGHT.  217 

and  clearness  of  manner  which  spring  from  the  union  of 
profound  with  distinct  apprehension,  they  would  exist  in 
vain.  The  ornament  is  worthless,  if  there  is  nothing  to 
sustain  it.  The  bas-relief  is  valueless,  without  the  slab 
to  support  it.  But  these  secondary  qualities  of  style — 
the  beauty,  and  the  elegance,  and  the  harmony — derive 
all  their  charm  and  power  from  springing  out  of  the 
primary  qualities,  and  in  this  way,  ultimately,  out  of  the 
deep  and  clear  culture  of  the  mind  itself — from  being 
the  white  flower  of  the  black  root. 

Style,  when  having  this  mental  and  natural  origin,  is 
to  be  put  into  the  first  class  of  fine  forms.  It  is  the 
form  of  thought ;  and,  as  a  piece  of  art,  is  as  worthy  of 
study  and  admiration,  as  those  glorious  material  forms 
which  embody  the  ideas  of  Phidias,  Michael  Angelo, 
and  Raphael.  It  is  the  form  in  which  the  human  mind 
manifests  its  freest,  pm-est,  and  most  mysterious  activity 
— its  thinking.  There  is  nothing  mechanical  in  its  ori- 
gin, or  stale  in  its  nature.  It  is  plastic  and  fresh  as  the 
immortal  energy,  of  which  it  is  the  air  and  bearing. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ORIGINAL  SIN.* 


Die  christliche  Lehre  von  der  Silnde,  dargestellt  von  Jidius  Muller. 

We  have  placed  the  title  of  this  work  of  Muller  at  the 
head  of  our  article,  not  for  the  purpose  of  entering  into 
an  analysis  and  criticism  of  it  at  this  time,  but  rather,  as 
a  strong  and  convenient  shelter  under  which  to  labor 
upon  the  much  vexed  and  much  vexing  doctrine  of  Ori- 
ginal Sin.  We  are  the  more  inclined  to  connect  our  re- 
flections upon  this  subject  with  this  work,  in  even  this 
slight  and  external  manner,  first,  because  they  coincide 
substantially  with  what  we  suppose  to  be  the  general 
theory  presented  in  this  thorough  and  thoroughly  elabo- 
rated treatise,  though  differing  from  it,  as  may  be  seen,  on 
the  point  of  the  nature  of  the  connection  of  the  individual 
with  Adam,  and  by  such  other  modifications  as  would 
naturally  result  from  considering  the  subject  from  other 
points  of  view,  and  with  reference  to  questions  current 
among  a  theological  public,  differing  very  considerably 
from  that  in  the  midst  of  which  this  work  originated ; 
and,  secondly,  because  it  gives  us  countenance  in   the 

*  Reprinted  from  the  Christian  Review,  Number  LXVII. 
[2181 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  219 

attempt  to  investigate  the  doctrine  from  a  metaphysical, 
and  not  merely  psychological,  position.  For  it  is  the 
misfortune  of  the  theology  in  vogue  for  the  last  hundred 
years,  as  it  seems  to  us,  that  sin  has  been  contemplated 
in  its  phenomenal  aspects,  rather  than  in  its  hidden 
sources.  The  majority  of  treatises  that  have  been  writ- 
ten upon  this  subject  since  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  have  been  occupied  principally  with  conscious^ 
and  (technically  so  called)  actual  transgression ;  while 
sin,  in  the  form  of  a  nature,  deeper  than  consciousness, 
and  the  very  fountain  of  all  consciousness  itself,  on  this 
subject,  has  too  generally  been  neglected.  While,  there- 
fore, the  psychology  of  sin  has  been  diligently  investi- 
gated, and  with  as  much  success  as  could  have  been  ex- 
pected under  the  circumstances,  the  metaphysical  side  of 
the  doctrine  has  made  little  or  no  progress.  If  we  tm"n  to 
the  treatises  of  an  elder  day — to  the  doctrinal  statements 
on  this  subject  of  Augustine  or  Calvin,  or  Turretine,  or 
Owen,  or  the  elder  Edwards — we  find  the  reverse  to  be 
the  fact.  Here  the  essence  of  sin  is  regarded  as  a  na- 
ture, or  state  of  the  soul,  which  manifests  itself  in  a  con- 
scious and  actual  transgi'ession  that  derives  all  its  ma- 
lignity and  guilt  from  this,  its  deeper  som*ce.  With  this 
source  itself — this  metaphysical  ground  of  the  psycholo- 
gical or  conscious  transgression — the  profound  intellect 
and  acute  speculation  of  these  men  were  chiefly  o(;cu- 
pied,  knowing  that  if  all  the  contradiction  and  all  the 
mystery  on  this  difficult  doctrine,  could  be  cleared  up  at 
this  point,  the  question  would  be  settled  once  for  all. 
Instead,  however,  of  advancing  in  the  general  line  of  ad- 
vance, marked  and  deeply  scored  into  all  the  best  theo- 
logy of  the  past,  the  theological  mind  for  the  last  cen- 
tury has  stopped  short,  as  it  seems  to  us,  and  has  con- 
tented itself  with  investigating  the  mere  superficies  of 


220  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

the  subject — ignoring,  and  in  some  instances  denying, 
the  existence  of  its  solid  substance.  The  effect  of  this 
species  of  theologizing  is  every  way  deleterious.  In  the 
first  place,  the  problem  itself  can  never  be  solved  by  this 
method,  any  more  than  the  mystery  of  life  can  be  made 
clearer  by  a  mere  examination  of  the  leaves  and  blossoms 
of  a  tree  The  creed  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  origin- 
al sin  has  made  no  advance  since  the  statement  made  in 
1643,  by  the  Westminster  Assembly.  There  has  been 
much  acute  and  intense  speculation  upon  the  doctrine 
since  that  time, — for  mysterious  as  it  is,  and  repulsive  as 
it  is,  to  fallen  human  nature,  it  will  ever  charm  like  the 
serpent's  eye, — but  we  know  of  no  distinct  and  strict 
wording  of  the  doctrine  made  since  then,  that  contains  a 
fuller  and  clearer  and  less  contradictory  statement  than 
that  of  the  Catechism.  It  is  plain,  that  there  will  be  no 
"  progress  in  Theology "  by  this  route.  In  the  second 
place,  this  neglect  of  the  sinful  nature,  and  this  fasten- 
ing of  the  eye  upon  the  sinful  exercises  only,  is  greatly 
injurious  to  the  interests  of  practical  religion.  The  at- 
tention of  man  is  directed  to  the  mere  surface  of  his 
character.  His  eye  is  not  made  to  penetrate  into  what 
he  is,  because  he  is  constantly  occupied  with  what  he 
does.  The  standard  of  character  itself  is  lowered  ;  while, 
as  all  church  history  shows,  the  grade  of  character  act- 
ually reached  is  far  lower  than  that  attained  on  another 
theory  and  view  of  sin. 

Finally,  less  unanimity  among  theologians  is  the  na- 
tural result  of  this  neglect  of  the  metaphysical  side  of 
the  doctrine  of  sin.  We  know  that  it  is  one  of  the  most 
popular  of  fallacies,  that  nothing  is  less  settled  than 
metaphysics, — that  the  brain  of  a  thorough-bred  meta- 
physician is  as  confused  as  his  heart,  according  to  Burke, 
is  hard.     Still,  in  the  face  of  the  fallacy,  we  re-affirm 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  221 

that  nothing  but  a  return  to  the  old  ground  occu})ied  by 
the  combatants  of  an  earlier  day,  will  enable  theologians 
to  range  themselves  into  two,  and  only  two,  divisions, 
instead  of  the  present  variety  of  "  schools,"  whose  name 
is  legion.  The  questions  that  arise,  and  the  answers  that 
are  compelled,  by  a  metaphysical  method,  as  distinguished 
from  a  merely  empirical  one,  locate  the  theologian,  on  one 
side  or  the  other  of  the  line  ;  because,  by  this  method, 
terms  are  used  in  their  strict  signification,  and  the  con- 
ceptions denoted  by  them  are  distinct. 

Suppose,  for  example,  that  the  term  "  sinful,"  when  ap- 
plied to  the  nature  of  fallen  man,  instead  of  being 
employed  in  the  sense  of  "  innocent,"  as  it  sometimes  is 
at  the  present  day,  had  but  the  one  uniform  and  constant 
signification  of  "guilty," — would  not  all  who  hold  and 
teach  the  doctrine  of  a  sinful  natm'c  see  eye  to  eye  on 
that  point  ?  Suppose  again,  that  the  word  "  imputation  " 
were  employed  to  denote  the  charge  of  guilt  upon  the 
absolutely  guilty,  and  never  an  arbitrary  charge  of  any 
sort,  —  would  not  all  who  hold  to  the  imj)utation  of  a 
sinful  natm-e  be  at  one  on  this  point  ?  And  yet  the  loose 
use  of  these  and  kindred  terms,  and  the  multiplication  of 
schools  in  theology  thereby,  can  be  prevented  only  by 
that  method  of  investigation  which  passes  by  all  mani- 
festations and  phenomena,  and  having  reached  the 
nature  itself,  asks  —  is  it  innocent,  or  is  it  culpable  ?  —  is 
this  nature  as  justly  and  properly  imputable,  and  so,  as 
worthy  of  punishment,  in  the  case  of  the  individual,  as 
of  Adam,  or  is  it  not?  Here  the  subject  lies  in  a  nut- 
shell ;  and  while  the  "  yea,  yea,"  locates  the  theologian 
on  one  side  of  the  line  first  sharply  drawn  in  the  days  of 
Augustine,  and  the  "  nay,  nay,"  locates  him  on  the  other 
side,  what  is  still   better,  this  strict  handling  of  terms 

19* 


222  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

leads  to  a  deeper  and  more  satisfactory  enucleation  and 
establishment  of  the  truth  itself. 

For,  if  a  man  affirm  that  the  fallen  nature  is  sin  itself, 
and  not  the  mere  occasion  of  sin ;  is  guilt  itself,  and  not 
the  mere  occasion  of  guilt ;  and  also,  that  all  this  is  as 
true  of  the  posterity  of  Adam  as  of  the  individual  Adam 
himself,  he  is  not  only  bound  to  explain  this  on  rational 
grounds,  but  he  is  driven  to  the  attempt  to  explain  it  by 
the  inevitable  movement  of  his  own  mind.  And  this 
was  the  case  with  the  men  whom  we  have  mentioned. 
They  never  shrank  from  affirming  that  the  ultimate  form 
of  sin  is  a  nature,  that  this  nature  is  guilt,  and  that  the 
wrath  of  God  justly  rests  upon  every  individual  of  the 
human  race  because  of  it.  And  when  pressed  with  the 
difficulties  that  beset  this,  and  every  other  one  of  the 
"  deep  things  of  God,"  by  as  acute  and  able  opponents 
as  the  world  has  ever  seen,  instead  of  relaxing  the  state- 
ment, or  betaking  themselves  to  a  loose  and  equivocal 
use  of  words,  they  stuck  to  terms,  and  endeavored  to 
thinJv  through,  and  establish,  on  philosophical  grounds,  a 
form  of  doctrine  which  they  first  and  heartily  adopted, 
on  experimental  and  Scriptural  grounds.  We  do  not 
say  that  they  completely  solved  the  problem,  but  we 
verily  believe  that  they  were  in  the  way  of  its  solution, 
and  that  theological  speculation  must  join  on  where  they 
left  off,  and  move  forward  in  their  line  of  advance.  No 
one  age,  however  wise  and  learned,  can  furnish  a  finished 
Theology  for  all  the  ages  to  come;  but  if  w^e  would 
have  substantial  advance,  each  and  every  age  must  be  in 
communication  with  the  wisdom  and  truth  of  the  pre- 
ceding, and  form  a  piece  of  continuity  with  it. 

Returning  to  this  point  of  unanimity,  consider  for  a 
moment  the  variety  of  opinions  among  us  in  regard  to 


THE    DOCTRINE    OK    OUIGLXAL    SIN.  223 

this  subject  of  a  sinful  nature.  What  divisions  and  con- 
troversies exist  among  those  who  all  alike  profess  to  be 
CalvinistsI  How  little  unanimity  exists  upon  this  doetrine 
amon2^  those  who  all  alike  repel  the  charge  of  Arminian- 
ism  !  One  portion  or  school  teach,  that  there  is  a  cor- 
rupt nature  in  man,  but  deny  that  it  is  really  and  strictly 
sinful.  Another  j^ortion  or  school  teach,  that  there  is  a 
nature  in  man  to  which  the  epithet  "sinful"  is  properly 
applied,  who  yet,  when  pressed  with  the  inquiry  —  is  it 
crime^  and  deserving  of  thewTath  of  God?  —  shrink  from 
the  right  answer,  and  return  an  uncertain  sound,  of  which 
the  substance  is,  that  its  contrariety  to  law,  and  not  its 
v^oluntariness,  is  the  essence  of  sin.  Again,  there  are 
those  who  are  prepared  to  fall  back  upon  the  ground  of 
the  eider  Calvinists,  up  to  a  certain  point,  but  who 
resolve  the  whole  matter  when  pressed  by  their  opponents, 
into  the  arbitrary  w^ill  and  sovereignty  of  God,  and  depre- 
cate all  attempts  to  construct  the  doctrine  on  grounds  of 
reason  and  philosophy.  And  finally,  there  are  some  who 
are  inclined  not  only  to  the  doctrinal  statement  of  Augus- 
tine and  Owen  and  the  elder  Edwards,  but  also  to  their 
method  of  establishing  and  defending  it,  by  means  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  real  oneness  of  Adam  and  his  posterity, 
in  the  fall  of  the  human  soul.  And  yet  Calvinism  is  one 
in  its  nature  and  theory.  Using  this  term  to  denote  not 
merely  that  particular  scheme  of  Christian  doctrine  drawn 
up  by  Calvin,  but  that  doctrinal  system  which  had  its 
origin  in  the  controversy  of -Augustine  with  Pelagius, 
and  which  received  a  further  development  through  the 
reformed  theologians  on  the  continent,  and  the  })uritan 
divines  of  England ;  we  may  say  that  Calvinism  teaches 
but  one  thing  in  regard  to  the  existence  of  a  sinful  nature 
in  fallen  man,  and  but  one  thing  in  regard  to  the  mean- 
ing of  the  term  sinful.     During  those  ages  of  controversy 


224  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

—  the  16th  and  17th  centuries  —  those  who  held  tho 
doctrine  of  a  sinful  nature,  and  of  a  sinful  nature  that  is 
guilt,  stood  upon  one  side,  and  stood  all  together  ;  and 
those  who  rejected  this  doctrine  stood  upon  the  other 
side,  and  also  stood  all  together.*     The  Christian  church 


^  This  is  evident  from  the  symbols  of  the  three  great  divisions  of  the 
modern  Protestant  church,  viz:  the  Lutheran,  the  Reformed  (Calvinistic), 
and  the  Puritan. 

Item  docent,  quod  post  lapsum  Adae  omnes  homines,  secundum  naturara 
propa},rati,  nascantur  cum  peccato,  hoc  est,  sine  metu  Dei,  sine  fiducia  erga 
Deum,  et  cum  concupiscentia,  quodque  Jtfc  morbus,  seu  vitium  originis  vere  sit 
peccatum,  damnans  et  afferens  aeternam  mortem. 

Damnant  Pelagianos  et  alios,  qui  vitium  originis  negant  esse  peccatum. 
Confessio  Augustana,  Articulus  11. 

Est  peccatum  originis  corruptio  totius  naturae,  et  vitium  hereditarium, 
*     #     #     *     *     Q^iqnc,  iixn\  {oQAnm  atque  execrabile  coram  Deo^ut  ad  itniver- 
si  generis  Immani  condemnationem  snfficiat.     Confessio  Belgica,  Articulus  XV. 

Peccatum  originis,  est  vitium  et  depravatio  naturae  cuiuslibet  hominis  ex 
Adamo  naturaliter  propagati,  qua  fit  ut  ab  originali  justitia  quam  longissime 
distet,  ad  malum  sua  natura  propendeat,  et  caro  semper  adversus  spiritum 
concupiscat,  unde  in  unoquoque  nascentium  iram  Dei  atque  damnationem  meretur. 
Articuli  XXXIX,  Articulus  fX. 

Qua  transgressione,  quae  vulgo  dicitur  originale  peccatum,  prorsus  defor- 
mata  est  ilia  Dei  in  homine  imago,  ipseque  et  ejus  posteri  natura  facti  sunt 
inimici  Dei,  mancipia  Satanae,  et  scrvi  peccati,  adeo  ut  mors  aeterna  hahuerit 
et  hahitura.  est  potentiam  et  dominium  in  omnes,  qui  non  fuerunt,  non  sunt  coe- 
litus  regeniti.     Confessio  Scoticana,  III. 

Peccatum  omne  cum  originale  turn  actuale,  quum  justae  Dei  legis  trans- 
gressio  sit  eique  contraria,  peccntori  suapte  natura  reatum  infert,  quo  ad  iram 
Dei,  ac  maledictionem  legis  subeundam  obligatur,  adeoque  redditur  obnoxius  morti 
simul  et  miseriis  omnibus  sj)iritualibus,  temporal iJms,  ac  aeternis.  Westmin- 
ster Confessio  fidei.  Cap.  VI.  §  6. 

Every  sin,  both  original  and  actual,  being  a  transgression  of  the  righteous 
law  of  God,  and  contrary  thereunto,  doth  in  its  own  nature  bring  guilt  uj)on 
the  sinner,  wliereby  he  is  bound  over  to  the  wrath  of  God,  and  curse  of  the 
law,  and  so  made  subject  to  death,  with  all  miseries  spiritual,  temporal,  and 
eternal.     Boston  Confession  of  Faith.  Chapter  VI. 

Q.  What  are  the  effects  of  this  first  sin  of  man?  A.  1.  Guilt  :  whereby 
they  are  bound  to  undergo  due  punishment  for  their  fault.  2.  Punishment,* 
which  is  the  just  wrath  of  God,  with  the  effects  of  it  upon  them  for  the  filth 
of  sin.     Davenport's  New  Haven  Catechism. 


THE    DOCTKIXE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIX.  225 

was  divided  into  two  divi:^io^s,  and  no  more.  And  this, 
because  t)ie  controversy  was  a  thorough  one,  owing  to 
the  profoinid  view  of  sin  taken  by  the  disputants  on  the 
AugustJnian  side ;  the  metaphysical,  rather  than  merely 
psychological  aspect  of  the  doctrine  being  uppermost. 

It  is  therefore  in  this  connection  that  we  rejoice  at  the 
appearance,  in  this  age,  of  a  work  like  that  of  Mliller, 
which  recognizes  a  deeper  source  and  form  of  sin  than 
particular  and  conscious  choices,  and  invites  the  theolo- 
gian to  contemplate  the  origin  and  essential  character  of 
that  nature  and  state  of  the  human  soul,  from  which  all 
conscious  transgression  proceeds.  Whether  it  adopt  all 
the  views  of  the  author  or  not,  we  are  confident  the 
reflecting  mind  that  has  made  itself  acquainted  with  the 
history  of  the  doctrine  of  original  sin,  will  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  deciding  on  which  side  of  the  great  controversy 
this  treatise  is  ;  and  furthermore,  that  it  is  on  the  whole 
a  substantial  advance  towards  a  complete  philosophical 
statement  of  the  theological  statement  contained  germ- 
inally  in  the  works  of  Augustine,  and  formally  in  all 
the  best  symbols  of  the  church. 

In  commencing  the  investigation  of  the  doctrine  of 
original  sin,  we  naturally  start  from  one  distinct  and  un- 
ambiguous statement  of  Scripture  ;  and  We  know  of  no 
one  at  once  so  plain  and  full  as  the  affirmation  of  St 
Paul,  that  man  is  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath.  The  doc- 
trine of  a  guilty  nature  in  man  is  taught  either  by  impli- 
cation, or  by  an  explicit  detail,  in  other  passages  in 
Paul's  Epistles,  in  the  Psalms  of  David,  in  the  Epistles 
of  John,  in  the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah, 
and  in  the  teachings  of  Christ ;  but  perhaps  no  single 
text  of  Scripture  enounces  the  doctrine  so  briefly  and 
comprehensively  as  this.     It  makes  specific  mention  of 


226  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

the  two  principal  characteristics  of  human  sinfuhiess: 
(1,)  its  depth,  and,  by  implication,  its  universality ;  and 
(2.)  its  guilt.  After  all  that  may  be  said  upon  this 
boundless  subject,  in  its  various  relations  to  man,  to  the 
universe,  and  to  God,  the  whole  substance  of  the  doc- 
trine may  be  crowded  into  a  very  narrow  compass. 
When  we  have  said,  that  man  is  by  nature  a  child  of 
ivrath  —  when  we  have  said,  that  sin  is  a  nature,  and 
that  this  nature  is  guilt  —  we  have  said  in  substance  all 
that  can  be  said.  The  most  exhaustive  investigation  of 
the  subject  will  not  reveal  any  feature  or  element  that  is 
not  contained  by  implication  in  this  brief  statement. 

The  true  method  of  investigating  the  doctrine  is  thus 
prescribed  by  the  terms  in  which  it  is  stated  in  Scripture, 
and  we  shall  endeavor  to  follow  it  rigidly.  We  shall 
endeavor  to  exhibit  the  Scriptural  doctrine  of  original 
sin,  not  by  merely  reciting  a  series  of  texts,  and  there 
leaving  the  matter,  but  by  seizing  upon  the  most  signifi- 
cant and  pregnant  text  of  all,  and  rigorously  developing 
it.  If  we  are  not  mistaken,  the  simple  contents  of  this 
one  proposition  of  St.  Paul,  will  Unfold  themselves  by 
close  reflection  into  a  detailed  view,  and  a  doctrinal 
statement,  that  will  be  found  to  harmonize  also  with  rea- 
son and  the  Christian  experience. 

I.  This  passage  of  inspiration  teaches,  that  sin  is  a 
nature.  "  We  were  (fyvaei  —  by  nature  —  children  of 
wrath."  The  Greek  word  c^vai^^  like  the  Latin,  natura^ 
always  denotes  something  original  and  innate,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  something  acquired  by  practice  or  habit. 
Whenever  we  wish  to  represent  an  attribute  or  quality, 
as  residing  in  a  subject  in  the  most  deep  and  total  man- 
ner possible,  we  say  that  it  is  in  it  by  nature,  or  as 
a  nature  ;  and  when  in  our  investigations  we  are  brought 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  2:27 

back  to  a  nature,  as  a  fundamental  basis,  we  think  we 
have  reached  the  bottom.* 

When  we  search  for  the  essence  of  human  sinfuhiess, 
we  find  it  in  the  form  of  a  nature  in  the  man.    Suppose  we 

*  The  word  "nature''  for  some  minds  conveys  only  the  meaning  of  "  cre- 
ated substance,"  so  .tliat  to  assert  that  sin  is  a  nature,  is  tantamount,  for 
them,  to  the  assertion  that  it  is  the  substance  or  essence  of  man.  This  is 
not  its  use  in  this  essay.  Sin  is  not  substance  but  agency  :  it  is  not  the  es- 
sence of  the  will  but  its  action  ;  not  the  constitution  of  this  faculty  but  its 
motion.  The  term  "  nature,"  consequently,  when  aj)plied  to  moral  agency, 
is  equivalent  to  "natural  disposition." 

None  were  more  careful  to  guard  against  the  Manichaean  doctrine,  that 
sin  is  substance,  than  those  who  have  held  the  doctrine  that  man  has  a  sin- 
ful nature  and  that  this  nature  is  guilt.  Augustine  carefully  distinguishes 
between  the  work  of  the  Creator  and  that  of  the  creature.  The  work  of 
the  former  he  often  designates  by  the  terra  naturn.  Employed  in  this  sense 
he  denies  that  sin  is  nature,  or  belongs  to  the  course  and  constitution  of  na- 
ture. Omne  autem  vitium  naturae  vocet,  ac  per  hoc  contra  naturam  est.  (De 
Civ.  Dei  XII.  1).  The  entire  argument  in  Chapter  6  of  Book  XII.  of  the 
De  Civitate  Dei,  endeavors  to  prove  that  moral  evil  is  the  pure  self-motion 
of  the  will  of  the  creature. 

Consonant  with  this,  Calvin  (Institutes  B.  II.  C.  I.  §  11 )  remarks  "  We  say, 
therefore,  that  man  is  corrupted  by  a  natural  depravity,  but  which  did  not 
originate  from  nature.  We  deny  that  it  proceeded  from  nature,  to  signify- 
that  it  is  rather  an  adventitious  quality  or  accident,  than  a  substantial  prop- 
erty originally  innate.  Yet  we  call  it  natural,  that  no  one  may  suppose  it 
to  be  contracted  by  each  individual  from  corrupt  habit."  Again  (Inst.  B.  I. 
C.  XIV.  §  3)  "neither  the  depravity  and  wickedness  of  men  and  devils,  nor 
the  sins  which  proceed  from  that  source,  are  from  mere  nature^  but  from  a 
corruption  of  nature."  Again  (Inst.  B.  I.  C  XV.  §  1),  "  we  must  beware 
lest,  in  precisely  pointing  out  the  natural  evils  of  man,  we  seem  to  refer 
them  to  the  Author  of  nature."  Again  (Inst.  B.  I.  C  XV.  §  1),  "  it  would 
redound  to  the  dishonor  of  God,  if  nature  could  be  proved  to  have  had  any 
innate  depravity  at  its  formation." 

The  Formula  Concordiae  is  careful  to  assert,  in  opposition  to  the  doc- 
trine of  an  extreme  party  in  the  Lutheran  church,  "  peccatum  originale 
non  esse  ipsam  hominis  naturam^  aut  essentiam,  hoc  est,  ipsius  hominis  cor- 
pus  et  animam,  (quae  hodie  in  nobis,  etiam  post  lapsum  sunt,  manentque 
Dei  opus  et  crcatura)  sed  malum  illud  originis  esse  aliquid  in  ipsa  hominis 
natura,  corpore,  anima,  omnibusque  viribus  humanis."  Hase's  Libri  Sym 
bolici,  p.  639. 


228 


THE    DOCTRIx\E    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 


arrest  the  sinner  in  the  outward  act,  and  fix  our  attention 
upon  sin  in  this  form,  we  are  immediately  compelled,  by 
the  operation  of  our  own  mind,  to  let  go  of  this  outward 
act,  and  to  seek  for  the  reality  of  his  sin  within  him.  The 
outward  act,  we  see  in  an  instant,  is  but  an  effect  of  a 
cause ;  and  we  instinctively  turn  our  eye  inward,  and 
fasten  it  upon  the  cause.  The  outward  act  of  transgres- 
sion drives  us,  by  the  very  laws  of  thought,  to  the  power 
that  produced  it  —  to  the  particular  volition  that  origin- 
ated it.  No  mind  that  thinks  at  all  upon  sin  can  possi- 
bly stop  with  the  outward  act.  Its  own  rational  reflec- 
tion hurries  it  away,  almost  instantaneously,  from  the 
blow  of  the  murderer  —  from  the  momentary  gleam  of 
the  knife  —  to  the  volition  within  that  strung  the  muscle, 
and  nerved  the  blow. 

But  the  mind  cannot  stop  here  in  its  search  for  the 
essential  reality  of  sin.  When  we  have  reached  the 
sphere  —  the  inward  sphere  —  of  volitions,  we  have  by 
no  means  reached  the  ultimate  ground  and  form  of  sin. 
We  may  suppose,  that  because  we  have  gone  beyond 
the  outward  act — because  we  are  now  ivithin  the  man  — 
we  have  found  sin  in  its  last  form.  But  we  are  mis- 
taken. Closer  thinking,  and  what  is  still  better,  a  deeper 
experience,  will  disclose  to  us  a  depth  in  our  souls,  lower 
than  that  in  which  volitions  occur,  and  a  form  of  sin 
in  that  depth,  and  to  the  bottom  of  it,  very  different  from 
the  sin  of  single  volitions. 

The  thinking  mind  which  cannot  stop  with  mere 
effects,  but  seeks  for  first  causes,  and  especially  the  heart 
that  knows  its  own  plague,  cannot  stop  with  that  quite 
superficial  action  of  the  will  which  manifests  itself  in  a 
volition.  This  action  is  too  isolated  —  too  intermit- 
tent—  and,  in  reahty,  too  feeble,  to  account  for  so  steady 
and  uniform  a  state  of  character  as  human   sinfulness. 


\ 

THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  229 

For  these  particular  volitions,  ending  in  particular  out- 
ward actions,  the  mind  instinctively  seeks  a  common 
ground.  For  these  innumerable  volitions,  occurring  each 
by  itself  and  separately,  the  mind  instinctively  seeks  one 
single  hidivmble  nature  from  which  they  spring.  When 
the  mind  has  got  back  to  this  point,  it  stops  content,  be- 
cause it  has  reached  a  centi'al  point.  When  it  has  traced 
all  these  outward  acts  and  inward  volitions  to  one  com- 
mon princi})le  and  source,  it  stops  content,  because  it  has 
introduced  unity  into  the  subject  of  its  investigation. 
When  the  human  mind  has  attained  a  view  that  is  both 
central  and  simple,  it  is  satisfied. 

It  is  not  more  certain,  that  we  are  compelled  by  the 
laws  of  our  minds  to  refer  properties  to  a  substance,  than 
that  by  the  operation  of  the  same  laws,  we  are  compel- 
led to  refer  sinful  volitions  to  a  sinful  disposition.  When 
we  see  exercisei^  of  the  soul,  we  as  instinctively  refer 
them  to  a  natural  character  in  that  soul,  as  we  refer  the 
the  properties  of  a  body  to  the  substance  of  that  body. 
In  both  cases  the  human  mind  is  seeking  for  unity  and 
simplicity  in  its  perceptions.  It  cannot  be  content  with 
merely  looking  at  these  various  properties  of  matter,  this 
impenetrability,  this  extension  in  space,  this  form,  this 
color,  and  stopping  here.  It  wants  unity  of  perception, 
and  simplicity  of  perception,  and  therefore  it  goes  farther, 
and  refers  all  these  properties  to  one  simple  substance, 
of  which  they  are  the  manifestation.  In  like  manner, 
the  human  mind  cannot  be  content  with  merely  looking 
at  all  these  exercises  —  these  unnumbered  volitions  of  the 
soul.  It  craves  unity  and  simplicity  of  perception  here 
too,  and  refers  these  innumerable,  sinful  volitions,  to  a 
sinful  nature  in  man,  one  and  indivisible,  of  which  they 
are  the  manifestations. 

Again :  the  argument  from  the  Christian  experience  is 
20 


230 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGLNAL    SIN. 


as  strong  as  that  from  the  nature  of  the  human  mind,  in 
favor  of  the  position  that  the  ultimate  form  —  the  essen- 
tial reality  —  of  sin,  is  a  nature.  Although  in  the  first 
period  of  conviction  of  sin,  the  attention  of  the  man  may 
be  directed  mainly  to  actions  and  volitions;  and  although 
this  may  be  the  case  to  a  considerable  extent,  even  in 
the  first  stages  of  the  Christian  experience,  it  is  yet  safe 
to  say,  that  the  Christian  man  is  troubled  through  the 
Christian  life  on  earth,  mainly,  and  permanently,  by  his 
sinful  nature.  The  reality  of  sin,  for  every  man  whose 
experience  is  worth  being  taken  as  testimony,  is  not 
in  particular  volitions  of  his  will,  but  in  its  abiding 
state  —  not  in  what  he  chooses  to  do  now  and  then,  but 
in  that  unceasing,  uninteiTupted  determination  of  self  to 
evil.  This  is  the  torment  of  his  life  —  that  below  his 
volitions  to  sin  —  below  his  resolutions  to  reform  —  even 
below  his  deepest  self-examination,  an(ihis  most  distinct 
self-knowledge  —  below  all  the  conscious  exercises  and 
operations  of  his  soul,  there  is  a  sinful  heart.,  a  dark 
ground  of  moral  evil. 

We  are  aware  of  the  mysteriousness  which  is  thrown 
over  the  subject  of  sin,  by  the  assumption  of  a  form  of. 
sin  which  is  deeper  than  consciousness.  But  we  must 
take  things  as  we  find  them,  whether  they  are  mysterious 
or  not  ;  whether  we  can  explain  them  or  not.  The  con- 
tents which  we  are  to  analyze  are  given  to  our  hand,  and 
whether  we  succeed  or  not  in  the  analysis,  they  have  the 
same  fixed  and  real  nature  of  their  own.  And,  we  may 
add,  the  true  way  to  arrive  at  the  unfolding  of  a  mys- 
tery, is  to  recognize  in  the  outset,  the  existence  of  all 
that  belongs  to  it.  The  true  way  to  arrive  at  the  suc- 
cessful solution  of  a  dark  problem,  is  to  retain  all  the 
terms  of  its  statement.  To  throw  out  one  or  more  of 
"^he  terms  which  properly  belong  to  the  problem,  and  in 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  231 

which  its  real  nature  is  contained,  because  it  seems  to  be 
a  troublesome  term  to  manage,  is  to  utterly  prevent  the 
solution  ;  and  the  attempt  to  unfold  the  deep  mystery  of 
original  sin,  while  rejecting  in  the  outset  an  element  that 
is  essential  —  the  sin  that  is  deeper  than  consciousness, 
or  the  sinful  nature,  as  distinguished  from  sinful  voli- 
tions —  simply  because  it  darkens  a  subject  that  is  con- 
fessedly mysterious,  must  inevitably  be  a  failure. 

Without  troubling  ourselves,  therefore,  at  this  point  in 
the  investigation,  about  the  mysteriousness  of  a  sin  of 
which  we  are  not  conscious,  because  it  is  the  basis  and 
explanation  of  consciousness,  and  therefore  of  necessity 
below  its  range  and  plane,  let  us  here  and  now  settle  the 
fact,  whether  there  is  any  such  sin. 

(1.)  And,  in  the  first  place,  is  it  not  a  fact,  that  in 
regard  to  the  matter  of  sin,  we  do  refer  all  the  conscious 
processes  of  our  souls  to  something  back  of  these  process- 
es ?  The  materials  that  make  up  our  consciousness  as 
sinners  —  the  innumerable  items  of  which  it  is  compos- 
ed—  the  thousands  of  \\T:ong  volitions,  and  the  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  wrong  emotions,  and  the  millions  of  wrong 
thoughts  —  do  we  not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  refer  them 
all  to  some  one  thing,  out  of  which  they  spring  ?  Can 
we,  and  as  matter  of  fact  do  we,  continue  to  chase 
these  innumerable  and  constantly  vanishing  particulars, 
dropping  one  as  soon  as  we  have  reached  the  next  suc- 
ceeding, because  the  mind  can  grasp  but  one  thing  at  a 
time,  and  thus  lose  the  mind  in  an  endless  series,  instead 
of  collecting  it  in  one  act  of  contemplation  and  reflec-^ 
tioii ;  or  do  we,  with  David,  cease  this  attempt  to  num- 
ber our  iniquities,  and  having  acknowledged  that  they 
are  more  than  the  hairs  of  our  head,  (Ps.  xl.  12,)  with  * 
him  confess  a  one  sin  of  heart  and  of  nature  at  the  bot- 
tom of  them  all  ?     No  man  who  has  had  any  experience 


232  THE     DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

on  this  subject  at  all,  will  deny  that  such  is  the  fact. — 
Whatever  his  theory  may  be,  every  man  does,  in  his 
private  reflections  and  secret  confession  to  God,  find  a 
form  of  sin  within  him  which  he  regards  as  the  fountain 
and  cause  of  all  his  particular  and  conscious  transgres- 
sions. He  finds  an  original  sin  from  which  these  partic- 
ular wrong  thoughts,  emotions,  and  volitions,  proceed. 

(2.)  And  now,  in  the  second  place,  is  it  not  a  fact,  that 
we  are  never  conscious  of  this  source  itself  of  transgres- 
sions, but  only  of  what  flows  from  it  ?  We  are  undeni- 
ably conscious  of  these  thoughts,  these  emotions,  these 
volitions  —  of  these  items  which  go  to  make  up  the  sum 
of  our  experience  —  of  these  various  materials  of  con- 
sciousness. But,  are  we,  as  matter  of  fact,  ever  conscious 
of  that  principle  of  evil  —  that  sinful  nature^  to  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  we  instinctively  refer  all  our  conscious 
transgressions  ?  We  have  only  to  reflect  a  moment  to 
see  that  we  are  never  conscious  of  this  sinful  nature  itself, 
but  only  of  what  proceeds  from  it.  The  evil  principle  to 
which  we  refer  all  these  manifestations  of  evil,  remains 
ever  below  the  plane  of  consciousness.  These  manifes- 
tations may,  themselves,  become  more  and  more  profound, 
and  may  carry  us  down  into  deeper  and  deeper  regions, 
but  we  find  the  sinful  nature  ever  below  us ;  as  w^e  go 
down  into  the  depths  of  our  apostate  souls,  and  know 
still  more  and  still  more  of  the  plague  of  our  hearts,  we 
are  all  along,  and  at  every  lower  point,  obliged  to  assume 
the  existence  of  a  yet  deeper  sin  than  our  consciousness 
has  grasped.  We  never  reach  the  bottom ;  we  never 
come,  in  consciousness,  to  the  lowest  and  ultimate  form 
of  sin ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  we  never  see  the 
time  when  we  have  become  conscious  of  all  our  sinful- 
ness, and  there  are  no  further  discoveries  for  us  to  make. 
The  prayer  of  David  is  the  proper  prayer  for  us  to  the 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  233 

day  of  our  death  :  "  Search  me,  O  Lord,  and  try  me,  and 
see  what  evil  ways  are  within  me;  cleanse  Thou  me 
from  secret  faults."  A  prayer,  it  may  be  remarked,  that 
is  utterly  unintelligible  on  the  hypothesis  that  there  is  no 
sin  deeper  than  consciousness. 

This  sinful  nature,  as  distinguished  from  the  conscious 
transgressions  that  proceed  from  it,  is  not  a  part  of  our 
experience,  but  something  which  we  infer  from  our  expe- 
rience, as  the  origin  and  explanation  of  it.  It  is  the 
metaphysical  ground  of  the  physical  —  i.  e.,  psychological 
—  phenomena.  We  find  within  consciousness,  an  in- 
numerable amount  of  particulars  —  an  endless  series  of 
wrong  thoughts,  emotions,  and  volitions  —  each  occur- 
ring by  itself;  and  this  is  all  we  do  or  can  find  in  con- 
sciousness. And  if  we  were  confined  merely  to  what  we 
are  conscious  of —  if  we  were  shut  up  to  the  series  of  our 
experiences  merely  —  we  should  never  come  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  a  sinful  nature.  We  should  be  compelled  to  stop 
with  the  phenomenal  merely.  But  when  in  reflection, 
and  for  the  pm-poses  of  science,  we  arrest  all  these  pro- 
cesses of  consciousness  —  when  we  bring  this  ever-flow- 
ing stream  of  conscious  transgressions  to  a  stand-still  — 
that  we  may  look  at  them,  and  find  the  origin  and  first 
cause  of  them,  then  we  are  obliged  to  assume  a  principle 
below  them  all,  to  infer  a  nature  back  of  them  all. — 
Thus,  this  sinful  nature  is  an  inference,  an  assumption,  or, 
to  use  a  word  borrowed  from  geometry,  a  postulate,  which 
the  mind  is  obliged  to  grant,  in  order  to  find  a  key  that 
will  unlock,  and  explain,  its  own  experience. 

"  But  granting,"  the  objector  may  say,  "  granting  that, 
as  matter  of  fact,  we  do  infer  and  assume,  from  what  we 
find  in  our  consciousness,  the  existence  of  a  nature 
deeper  than  consciousness,  to  which  we  refer  the  data  of 
experience,  and  by  which  we  explain  them,  what  evidence 

20* 


234  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

is  there,  that  thei-e  is  in  reality  any  such  thuig  ?  By  your 
own  confession,  it  is  entirely  beyond  the  sphere  of  human 
consciousness ;  and  though  it  may  be  a  convenient 
a  priori  postulate,  under  which  to  group  and  generalize 
the  various  particulars  in  our  experience,  what  evidence 
is  there,  that  there  is  an  actual  correspondent  to  it  in  the 
human  soul  ?  "  We  answer :  The  evidence  in  this  case 
is  precisely  the  same  with  that  which  exists  in  the  case 
of  any  and  every  purely  metaphysical  truth.  The  evi- 
dence cannot  of  course  be  derived  from  consciousness, 
'  because  we  are  seeking  the  ground  and  explanation  of 
I  consciousness  itself;  and  therefore  must  be  sought  for  in 
!  that  normal  and  necessary  movement  of  our  rational  intellect^ 
by  which  we  are  compelled  to  the  a  priori  assumption. — 
We  find  ourselves  necessitated^  in  every  instance  that  we 
attempt  to  find  an  adequate  origin  for  our  particular 
transgressions,  to  assume  the  existence  of  a  sinful  nature, 
and  this  rational  necessity  in  the  case,  is  the  evidence  that 
we  need.  When  we  find  that  the  mind  is  driven  by  the 
very  laws  of  thought  to  an  a  priori  assumption,  and  .that 
it  is  invariably  driven  to  it  whenever  it  reflects  at  all  upon 
its  experience,  we  have  all  the  evidence  that  can  be  had 
for  a  metaphysical  truth  —  all  the  evidence  that  can 
rationally  be  required,  that  the  assumption  corresponds 
to  the  truth  and  reality  in  the  case.  Reason  cannot 
impose  upon  itself,  and  invariably  teach  a  truth  of  know- 
ing, that  is  no  truth  of  being  —  a  truth  of  logic  and 
science,  that  is  no  truth  of  fact ;  and  therefore  it  is,  that 
men  will  always  believe  that  there  is  a  substance  in 
which  accidents  inhere,  and  a  nature  from  which  mani- 
festations proceed,  though  there  is  no  evidence  from  con- 
sciousness for  either.  The  fact,  that  the  human  mind,  in 
the  exercise  of  its  sober  reflection  upon  the  data  of  con- 
sciousness, is  invariably  and  unavoidably  compelled  to  a 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  235 

given  assumption,  is  evidence  that  the  assnnipiion  has 
rational  grounds,  and  corresponds  to  truth  and  reality. — 
If  it  is  not,  then  a  lie  has  been  built  into  the  very  struc- 
ture of  the  human  mind,  and  it  is  not  to  be  trusted  in 
regard  to  any  a  priori  truth.  If,  when  following  the  laws 
of  thought,  and  trusting  to  the  constitution  imposed 
upon  it  by  the  Creator,  there  is  no  certainty  that  the 
assumptions  which  it  is  compelled  to  make,  as  the  suili- 
cient  ground  and  adequate  explanation  of  its  experimental 
consciousness,  coiTCspond  to  the  truth  of  things,  the 
human  mind  might  as  well  stop  thinking  altogether. 

Aqd  what  shall  we  do  in  this  connection  with  the 
sense  of  guilt  ?  This  sinful  nature,  as  matter  of  fact,  is 
the  source  of  remorse,  and  the  cause  of  the*  most  poignant 
self-reproach  in  those  whose  senses  have  been  exercised 
to  discern  good  and  evil.  Can  we  suppose  that  there  is 
a  lie  here  too,  and  that  pangs  come  into  the  human  soul, 
and  exist  there,  with  no  valid  reason  for  them,  no  real 
ground  for  them  to  rest  upon  ?  Can  we  suppose  that  all 
the.  remorse  and  self-reproach  that  has  resulted  in  the 
souls  of  men,  from  a  knowledge  of  their  nature  and 
character^  and  not  merely  of  their  particular  acts,  was 
un-called  for,  because  there  is  in  reality  no  such  nature  ? 
Can  we  suppose  that  He  who  looks  on  things  precisely 
as  they  are,  knoius  that  there  is  no  just  cause  for  this 
mental  distress  in  His  creatures  ? 

In  addition  to  these  arguments  derived  from  the  nature 
of  the  human  mind,  and  the  sense  of  guilt,  (which  latter 
point  opens  a  wide  and  most  interesting  field  of  investi- 
gation,) we  may  add,  that  the  history  of  Christian  docti'ine 
shows  that  the  church  has  in  all  ages  believed  in  a  sinful 
nature,  as  distinguished  from  conscious  transgressions. 
The  soundest,  and,  as  we  believe,  the  profoundest  symbols, 
all  teach  the  existence  of  a  form  of  human  sinfulness 


236  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

running  deeper  than  even  the  most  thorough  and  search- 
ing Christian  experience  —  or,  which  is  the  same  thing, 
that  the  Divine  Eye  beholds  a  corruption  in  man,  more 
radical  and  more  profound  than  has  ever  been  seen  by 
the  eye  of  man  himself. 

II.  Assuming,  then,  that  the  fact  of  a  sinful  nature 
has  been  established,  we  pass  to  the  second  statement 
of  St.  Paul,  that  man  is  by  nature  a  child  of  ivrath.  We 
pass  from  his  statement,  that  sin,  in  its  ultimate  form, 
is  a  nature,  to  his  statement,  that  this  nature  is  guilt. 
And  we  need  not  say,  that  in  so  doing,  we  are  passing 
over  into  the  darkest  and  most  dangerous  district  in  the 
whole  domain  of  theological  speculation.  The  recon- 
dite nature  of*  the  subject,  the  difficulty  of  clearly  ex- 
pressing one's  conceptions,  even  when  they  lie  distinct 
in  one's  own  mind,  the  liability  to  push  a  point  too  far, 
the  failure  to  guard  one's  statements  with  sufficient  care, 
and  many  other  causes  that  might  be  specified,  conspire 
to  render  Ihis  side  of  the  doctrine  of  original  sin  one  of 
the  most  difficult  of  all  topics  of  discussion.  And  be- 
fore we  venture  out  into  this  region,  we  wish  to  say 
beforehand,  that  we  should  regret  and  dread  above  all 
things,  to  advance  any  views  on  this  important  doctrine 
that  would  conflict  with  the  Christian's  experience  of 
the  plague  of  his  heart — any  views  that  would  be  in  the 
least  degree  prejudicial  to  that  profound  view  of  sin  which 
the  soul  does  actually  have  when  under  the  teaching  and 
influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  most  heartily  and  re- 
ligiously acknowledge,  that  here  the  Practical  must  have 
preference  to  the  Speculative ;  and  we  would  immediate- 
ly give  up  any  speculative  view  or  theory  of  sin  that  we 
might  have  formed,  the  moment  that  we  saw  that  it 
would  go,  or  tend  in  the  least,  to  disparage  a  thorough- 
going statement  of  the  doctrine  in  a  creed,  or  to  pro- 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  237 

mote  an  imperfect  and  shallow  experience  of  it  in  the 
heart. 

The  apor^tle  teaches,  that  sinful  man  is  a  child  of 
\vi*ath.  Now,  none  but  a  guilty  being  can  be  the  object 
of  the  righteous  and  holy  displeasure  of  God.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  Divine  Anger  is  tenable  only  on  the  sup- 
position that  the  objects  upon  whom  it  expends  itself 
are  realhj  ill  deserving-  —  are  reallij  criminal.  It  becomes 
necessary  therefore  to  show,  that  that  sinful  nature  of 
man,  on  account  of  which  he  becomes  a  child  of  wrath, 
and  obnoxious  to  the  Divine  anger,  is  a  gniltij  nature. 
In  doing  this,  we  shall  be  led  to  discuss  sin  in  its  rela- 
tion to  the  human  Will,  and  to  Adam,  the  first  man. 

(1.)  Li  regard  to  the  first  point,  the  position  taken  is, 
that  this  sinful  nature  is  in  the  Will,  and  is  the  product 
of  the  Will.  We  say  that  it  is  in  the  Will,  in  contra- 
distinction to  the  physical  natm-e  of  man.  One  state- 
ment of  the  doctrine  of  original  sin  makes  it  to  consist 
in  the  depravation  of  man's  sensuous  nature  merely.  In 
this  case,  the  Will  is  conceived  to  be  extraneous  to  this 
corrupted  nature,  and  merely  the  executor  of  it.  Origin- 
al sin,  in  this  case,  is  not  in  the  voluntary  part  of  man, 
but  in  the  involuntary  part  of  him ;  and  guilt  cleaves  to 
him  when  the  voluntary  part  executes  the  promptings  of 
the  involuntary  part ;  and  guilt  does  not  cleave  to  him 
until  this  does  take  place.  The  adherents  of  this  view 
insist,  (and  properly  too,  if  this  statement  is  correct,) 
that  the  term  "  sinful,"  in  the  sense  of  guilty  or  criminal, 
cannot  be  applied  to  this  depraved  physical  nature  —  to 
this  (so-called)  original  sin. 

In  opposition  to  this  view,  we  affirm  that  original  sin 
does  not  consist  in  the  depravation  of  man's  sensuous  or 
physical  nature,  but  in  the  depravation  of  his  Will  itself. 
The  corruption  of  the  physical  natm-e  of  man  is  one  of 


238  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

the  consequences  of  original  sin,  but  not  original  sin  it- 
self. This  is  a  depravation  of  a  far  deeper  and  more 
central  faculty  than  that  of  sense  —  a  corruption  of  the 
voluntary  power  itself.  It  is  because  the  human  Will  — 
the  governing  power  in  the  soul  —  first  fell  away  from 
God,  that  the  other  faculties  of  man  are  in  the  condition 
they  are,  that  the  affections  are  carnal,  that  the  under- 
standing is  darkened,  that  the  physical  nature  is  de- 
praved ;  and  these  effects  of  apostasy  should  never  be 
put  in  the  place  of  their  cause  —  of  that  corruption  of  the 
Will  Vv^hich  is  the  origin  of  them  all. 

But  the  examination  of  a  single  instance  of  the  grati- 
fication of  a  sensuous  propensity,  is  enough  to  show 
that  sin  lies  elsewhere  than  in  the  physical  nature.  A 
man,  we  will  suppose,  gratifies  the  sensuous  craving  for 
strong  drink.  The  sin  in  the  case  does  not  lie  in  this 
craving  of  the  sensuous  nature,  corrupted  though  it  be. 
The  sin  in  the  case  lies  further  back,  in  the  Will ;  and, 
be  it  observed,  not  solely  in  that  particular  volition  of 
the  Will  by  which  the  act  of  drinking  was  performed, 
but  ultimately  in  that  abiding  state  of  the  Will  —  that 
selfishness^  or  selfish  nature  in  the  Will  —  which  prompt- 
ed and  permitted  the  volition.  Here,  as  in  every  in- 
stance, we  are  led  back  to  a  sinful  nature,  as  the  essence 
of  sin ;  and  this  nature  we  find  in  the  Will  itself ;  we 
find  it  to  be  a  particular  state  of  the  Will  itself. 

But,  besides  saying  that  this  sinful  nature  is  in  the 
Will,  we  have  said,  furthermore,  that  it  is  the  product  of 
the  Will.  By  this  we  mean,  that  the  efficient  producing 
author  of  this  sinful  nature  is  the  Will  itself;  in  other 
words,  that  this  nature  "is  a  self-willed,  a  self-determined 
nature.  Before  proceeding  further  with  this  part  of  the 
subject,  we  wish  to  premise  a  few  remarks  upon  these 
te'  as,  "  self-willed  "  and  "  self-determined." 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  239 

It  is  unfortunate  for  the  cause  of  truth,  and  especially 
for  the  scientific  development  of  the  doctrine  of  original 
sin,  that  the  term  self-determination  has  been  appropria- 
ted by  the  Arminian  School  in  Theology ;  and  still  more 
unfortunate,  that  the  conception  denoted  by  it  has  been, 
and  still  is,  such  a  defective  and  inadequate  one.  Both 
Arminians  and  their  modern  opponents  have  understood, 
and  still  do  understand,  by  this  term,  an  ability  in  the 
Will,  at  any  moment,  to  choose  or  refuse  some  particu- 
lar thing.  The  Will  accordingly,  both  for  Arminians 
and  their  opponents,  is  merely  the  faculty  of  single 
choices  —  the  faculty  of  particular  volitions ;  and  self-de- 
termination for  both  parties  denotes  the  ability  to  put 
forth  a  single  volition,  or  not,  at  pleasure.  The  Will  for 
both  parties  is  simply  that  faculty  of  particular  choices, 
by  which  we  raise  a  hand  or  let  it  drop  —  a  species  of 
voluntary  power  which  the  horse  employs,  in  common 
with  man,  when  he  chooses  clover  and  refuses  burdock. 

This  is  the  notion  attached  to  the  term  self-determina- 
tion in  the  treatise  of  Edwards  —  the  ability,  viz.,  to 
resolve  this  way  or  that,  at  any  moment,  and  under 
all  circumstances ;  and  if  this  is  the  only  self-deter- 
mination of  which  we  can  have  any  conception,  then 
Edwards  was  correct  in  denying  the  doctrine.  So  far 
as  his  work  combats  this  defective  and  inadequate  no- 
tion of  self-determination  —  so  far  as  it  seeks  to  over- 
throw the  Arminian  self-determination  —  it  is  one  of  great 
value.  From  such  a  superficial  view  of  the  Will,  as 
being  merely  the  faculty  of  single  isolated  volitions,  and 
from  such  an  inadequate  notion  of  self-determination,  as 
being  merely  the  ability  to  choose  or  refuse  a  particular 
thing,  in  a  particular  case,  nothing  but  the  most  shallow 
view  both  of  sin  and  of  regeneration  could  result.  The 
great  merit  of  Edwards  in  this  polemic  treatise,  it  boems 


240  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

to  US,  consists  more  in  his  powerful  and  successful  re- 
sistance of  a  false  theology,  in  connection  with  a  thorough 
view  of  the  fallen  and  corrvpt  Will,  than  in  his  own  posi- 
tive statements  concerning  the  ideal  and  original  nature 
of  this  faculty.* 

In  saying,  therefore,  that  the  sinful  nature  of  man  is 
the  product  of  his  Will,  we  do  not  mean  to  teach,  that 
it  has  its  origin  in  the  Will  considered  as  the  faculty  of 
choices,  or  particular  volitions.  W^e  no  more  believe 
that  original  sin  was  produced  by  a  volition,  than  that  it 
can  be  destroyed  by  one.  And  if  we  can  have  no  idea 
of  the  Will  except  as  such  a  faculty  of  single  choices, 
and  no  idea  of  voluntary  action  except  such  as  we  are 
conscious  of  in  our  volitions  and  resolutions,  then  we 
grant  that  the  sinful  nature  must  be  referred  to  some 
other  producing  cause  than  the  human  Will,  and  that 
the  epithets,  "  self-determined,"  and  "  self-originated," 
cannot  be  applied  to  it. 

But  it  seems  to  us  that  we  can  have  a  fuller  and  more 
adequate  idea  of  the  voluntary  power  in  man  than  this 
comes  to.  It  seems  to  us  that  our  idea  of  the  human 
Will  is  by  no  means  exhausted  of  its  contents,  when  we 
have  taken  into  view  merely  that  ability  which  a  man 
has,  to  regulate  his  conduct  in  a  particular  instance.  It 
seems  to  us  that  we  do  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  con- 
trolling power  in  the  soul,  that  is  far  more  central  and 
profound  than  the  quite  superficial  faculty  by  which  we 
regulate  the  movement  of  our  limbs  outwardly,  or  in- 
wardly summon  up  our  energies  to  the  performance  of 
particular  acts.  It  seems  to  us,  that  by  the  Will,  is 
meant  a  voluntary  power  that  lies  at  the  very  centre  of 
the  soul,  and  whose  movements  consist,  not  so  much  in 

*  Edwards's  work  on  "The  Affections,"  contains  much  that  is  of  great 
^ahie  for  the  construction  of  a  philosophic  theory  of  the  Will. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  241 

choosing  or  refusing,  in  reference  to  particular  circum- 
stances, as  in  determining  the  ichole  man  ivith  reference 
to  some  great  and  idtimate  end  of  living.  The  character- 
istic of  the  Will  proper,  as  distinguished  from  the  voli- 
tionary  faculty,  is  determination  of  the  lohole  being  to  an 
nUimate  end,  rather  than  selection  of  means  for  attaining 
that  end  in  a  particular  case.*  The  difference  betAveen 
the  voluntary  and  the  volitionary  power  —  between  the 
Will  proper  and  the  faculty  of  choices  —  may  be  seen  by 
considering  a  particular  instance  of  the  exercise  of  the 
latter.  Suppose  that  a  man  chooses  to  indulge  one  of 
his  appetites  in  a  particular  instance  —  the  appetite  for 
alcoholic  stimulus,  e.  g-. — and  that  he  actually  does  gra- 
tify it.  In  this  instance,  he  puts  forth  one  single  voli- 
tion, and  performs  one  particular  act.  By  an  act  of  the 
faculty  of  choices,  of  which  he  is  distinctly  conscious, 
and  over  which  he  has  arbitrary  power,  he  drinks,  and 
gratifies  his  appetite.  But  why  does  he  thus  choose  in 
this  particular  instance  ?  In  other  words,  is  there  not  a 
deeper  ground  for  this  single  volition  ?  Is  not  this  parti- 
cular act  of  the  choice  determined  by  a  far  deeper  and 
pre-existing  determination  of  his  ichoIe  imcard  being  to 
self,  as  an  ultimate  end  of  living?  And  now,  if  the 
Will  should  be  widened  out  and  deepened,  so  as  to  con- 
tain this  whole  inward  state  of  the  man  —  this  entire 
tendency/  of  the  soul  to  self  and  sin  —  is  it  not  plain  that 
it  would  be  a  very  different  power  from  that  which  put 
forth  the  particular  volition?  Would  not  the  Will,  as 
thus  conceived,  cover  a  far  wider  surface  of  the  soul,  and 
reach  down  to  a  far  deeper  depth  in  it,  than  that  faculty 

*  This  distinction  between  the  Will  proper,  and  the  faculty  of  choices,  is 
marked  in  Latin  hy  the  two  words,  J'ohiiitas  and  Arbitrlinn;  and  in  that  one 
of  the  modern  ton^^ues  whose  vocaI)ulary  for  Philosophy  is  the  richest  of 
all,  hv  the  two  words,   Wille  and  WillkiVcr. 

21 


242  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

of  single  choices  which  covers  but  a  single  point  on  the 
surface,  and  never  goes  below  the  surface  ?  —  Would  not 
a  faculty  comprehensive  enough  to  include  the  whole 
man,  and  sufficiently  deep  and-  central  to  be  the  origin 
and  basis  of  a  nature^  a  character^  a  permanent  moral 
state^  be  a  very  different  faculty  from  that  vohtionary 
power  whose  activity  is  merely  on  the  surface,  and  whose 
products  are  single  resolutions,  and  transient  volitions  ? 

Now,  by  the  Will,  we  mean  such  a  faculty.  We 
mean  by  it  a  voluntary  power  that  lies  at  the  very 
foundation  of  the  human  soul,  constituting  its  central, 
active  principle,  containing  the  whole  moral  state,  and 
all  the  moral  affections.  We  mean  by  it  a  voluntary 
power  that  carries  the  whole  inward  being  along  with  it 
when  it  moves;  a  power,  in  short,  which  is  the  man 
himself — the  ego^  th^  person. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  view,  that  the  voluntary  power 
in  man  is  the  deepest  and  most  central  power  within 
him.  We  sometimes  hear  the  human  soul  spoken  of  as 
composed  fundamentally  of  Intellect  and  of  Feeling, 
and  only  superficially  of  Will ;  as  if  man  were  an  Intel- 
lect at  bottom,  or  a  Heart  at  bottom,  and  then  a  Will 
were  superinduced  as  the  executive  of  these.  But  thi? 
cannot  be  so,  for  man  is  a  person,  and  the  bottom  of 
personality  is  free  Will.  Man  at  bottom  is  a  Will  —  a 
self-determining  creature  —  and  his  other  faculties  of 
knowing  and  feeling  are  gi'afted  into  this  stock  and 
root ;  and  hence  he  is  responsible  from  centre  to  circum- 
ference.* 

*  This  more  capacious  idea  of  the  Will  is  the  most  common  one  in 
doctrinal  history.  "  Voluntas  est  quippe  in  omnibus :  imo  omnes  nihil 
aliud  qiiam  voluntates  sunt.  Nam  quid  est  cupiditas,  et  lastitia,  nisi  voluntas 
in  eorum  consensionem  qu»  volumus  1  Et  quid  est  metus  atque  tristitia, 
nisi  voluntas  in  dissensionem  ab  his  quae  nolumus."  Aug.  De  civitate  Dei, 
Lib.  XIV.,  Cap.  VI.- 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  243 

Tlie  Will,  as  thus  defiiied,  we  affirm  to  be  the  respon- 
sible and  guilty  author  of  the  sinful  nature.  Indeed^  this 
sinful  nature  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  state  of  the 

"  The  Will  is  in  the  soul  like  the  primum  mobile  in  the  heavens,  that  doth 
carry  all  the  inferior  orbs  away  with  its  own  motion.  This  is  the  whole  of 
a  man  ;  a  man  is  not  what  he  knoweth,  or  what  he  remembereth,  but  what 
he  Willcth.  The  Will  is  the  Queen  sitting  upon  its  throne,  exercising  its 
dominion  over  the  other  parts  of  the  soul.  The  Will  is  the  proper  seat  of 
all  our  sin ;  and  if  there  could  be  a  siimmum  7nalu>n  as  there  is  a  siimmum 
l)onHm,  this  would  be  in  the  Will." — Burgess.  Original  Sin.  Part  III. 
chap.  XIV.  Sec.  1. 

"  In  the  Will,  we  are  to  conceive  suitable  and  proportionate  affections  to 
those  we  call  passions  in  the  sensitive  part.  Thus,  in  the  Will,  (as  it  is  a 
rational  appetite,)  there  are  love,  joy,  desire,  fear,  and  hatred.  *  *  * 
So  that  the  Will  loveth,  the  Will  rejoiceth,  and  the  Will  desireth,"  etc. — 
Burgess.     Part  III.  chap.  IV.  Sec.  2. 

'•  The  heart  in  Scripture  is  variously  nsed ;  sometimes  for  the  mind  and 
understanding;  sometimes  for  the  Will;  sometimes  for  the  affections  ;  some- 
times for  the  conscience  ;  sometimes  for  the  whole  soul.  Generally  it  de- 
notes the  wiiole  soul  of  man,  and  all  the  faculties  of  it,  not  absolutely,  but 
as  they  are  one  principle  of  moral  opei-ations,  as  theij  all  concur  in  our  doing 
yood  cr  eviV — Owen.     Indwelling  Sin.     Chapter  III. 

"  And  then,  likewise,  there  is  a  consequent  averse  or  transverse  posture  in 
the  affections  of  the  soul,  ivhereof  indeed^  the  Will  is  the  seat  and  subject;  de- 
sires, fears,  hopes,  delights,  anger,  sorrow,  all  transversed  in  a  quite  con- 
trary course  and  being,  to  what  they  should  be." — Howe's  Oracles  of  God. 
Sec.  25.  Also  compare  pp.  1204,  1128,  891.  New  York  Ed. 
. ."  As  to  spiritual  duties  or  acts,  or  any  good  thing  in  the  state  or  imma- 
nent acts  of  the  Will  itself,  or  of  the  affections  (which  are  only  certain  modes 
of  the  exercise  of  the  Will),  etc. — Edwards  on  the  Will.     Part  III.  Sec.  4. 

'•  The  Will,  and  the  affections  of  the  soul,  are  not  two  faculties;  the 
affections  are  not  essentially  distinct  from  the  Will,  nor  do  they  differ  from  the 
mere  actings  of  the  Will,  and  inclination  of  the  soul,  but  only  in  the  liveliness 
and  sensibleness  of  exercise." — Edwards  on  the  Affections.  Works,  III. 
p.  3. 

Edwards  everywhere  dichotomizes.  For  example,  speaking  of  the  differ- 
ence between  the  knowledge  of  the  natural  man  and  that  of  the  regenerate, 
he  remarks  :  '•  In  the  former  is  exercised  merely  the  speculative  faculty,  or 
the  understanding,  strictly  so  called,  or  as  spoken  of  in  distinction  from  the 
Will,  or  disposition  of  the  soul.  In  the  latter,  the  Will,  or  inclination,  or  heart, 
\s  mainly  cont^erned." — Reality  of  Spiritual  Light.     Works,  IV.  442. 

The  terms  "  heart "  and  "  will "  are  everywhere  used  as  equivalents  by 
Calvin.     Soo  e.  g.  Institutes.    Book  II. Chap.  III.  Sec.  5-11. 


244  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

Will;  nothing  more  nor  less  than  its  constant  and  total 
determination  to  self,  as  the  ultimate  end  of  living.  This 
voluntary  power  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  soul,  as  its 
elementary  base,  and  carrying  all  the  faculties  and  powers 
of  the  man  along  with  it,  whenever  it  moves,  and  wher- 
ever it  goes,  has  turned  away  from  God  as  an  ultimate 
end;  and  this  self-direction  —  this  permanent  and  entire 
determination  of  itself — this  state  of  the  Will — is  the 
sinful  nature  of  man. 

Here  then  we  have  a  depraved  nature,  and  a  depraved 
nature  that  is  guilt,  because  it  is  a  self-originated  nature.* 
Here,  then,  is  the  child  of  wrath.  Were  this  nature 
created  and  put  into  man,  as  an  intellectual  nature,  or  as 
a  particular  temperament,  is  put  into  him,  by  the  Creator 
of  all  things,  it  would  not  be  a  responsible  and  guilty 
nature,  nor  would  man  be  a  child  of  wrath.  But  it  does 
not  thus  originate.  It  has  its  origin  in  the  free  and  res- 
ponsible use  of  that  voluntary  power  which  God  has 
created  and  placed  in  the  human  soul,  as  its  most  central, 
most  mysterious,  and  most  hazardous  endowment.  It  is 
a  self-determined  nature  —  i.  e.,  a  nature  originated  in  a 
Will,  and  by  a  WilLj 

*  To  use  a  scholastic  distinction  —  it  is  peccatum  originans,  and  not 
merely  originatum. 

t  The  Will  is  the  principle,  the  next  seat  and  cause  of  obedience  and 
disobedience.  Moral  actions  are  unto  us,  or  in  us,  so  far  good  or  evil  as 
they  partake  of  the  consent  of  the  Will.  He  spoke  truth  of  old  who  said 
"  Omne  peccatum  est  adeo  voluntarium,  ut  non  sit  peccatum  nisi  sit  vol- 
mitarium" — Owen,  Indwelling  Sin,  Chapter  XII. 

"I  mean  hereby  those  first  acts  of  the  soul-which  are  thus  far  involuntary 
as  that  they  have  not  the  actual  \\.  e.,  deliberately  conscious]  consent  of  the 
Will  to  them  ;  hut  are  voluntary^  as  far  as  sin  has  its  residence  in  the  Will.  I 
know  no  greater  burden  in  the  life  of  a  believer  than  these  involuntary  suv- 
prisals  of  the  soul ;  involuntary,  I  say,  as  to  the  actual  [i.  e.,  deliberately 
conscious]  consent  of  the  Will,  but  not  so  in  respect  oftliat  cori^nption  ivhich  is 
in  the  Will,  and  is  the  principle  of  them. 

Owen,  Indwelling  Sin,  Chapter  VI. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  245 

It  will  be  apparent,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  we 
regard  the  Ai'minian  idea  of  the  Will,  and  of  self-deter- 
mination, to  be  altogether  inadequate  to  the  pm-pose 
intended  by  it.  The  motive  of  this  school,  we  are  charita- 
ble enough  to  believe,  was  in  many  instances  a  good  one. 
It  desired  to  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man  —  to 
make  man  responsible  for  his  character  —  but  it  ended  in 
the  annihilation  of  all  sin  except  that  of  volitions;  of  all 
sin  except  what  is  technically  called  actual  sin,  because 
its  view  of  the  Will  was  not  profound  enough.  And  as 
we  wish  to  bring  out  into  as  clear  a  light  as  possible  the 
difference  between  the  Arminian  self-determination,  and 
what  we  suppose  to  be  the  true  doctrine,  let  us  for  a 
moment  exhibit  the  relation  of  both  theories  to  "  the 
doctrine  of  inability,"  as  it  is  familiarly  styled. 

According  to  the  Ai'minian  school,  the  Will  is  merely 
the  faculty  of  choices ;  and  its  action  consists  solely  in 
volitions.  Self-determination,  consequently,  is  the  ability 
to  put  forth  a  volition.  Now,  as  a  volition  is  confessedly 
under  the  arbitrary  control  of  a  man,  it  follows,  that  he 
has  the  ability  to  put  forth  (so-called)  holy  or  sinful 
volitions  at  pleasure ;  and  inasmuch  as  no  deeper  action 
of  the  Will  than  this  volitionary  action  is  recognized  in 
the  scheme,  it  follows,  that  he  has  the  ability  to  be  holy 
or  sinful  at  pleasure.  This  is  the  "  power  to  the  con- 
trary," which  even  sinful  man  has,  although  the  more 

Owen,  in  the  above  extract  plainly  distinguishes  between  voluntary  and 
volitionary  action  :  between  the  immanent  self-determination  of  the  Voluntas, 
and  the  deliberate  and  conscious  ("  actual")  action  of  the  Arbitrium.  The 
old  writers  often  denominate  the  disposition  or  nature  in  the  Will,  activity. 
Owen  speaks  of  the  Christian  affections  as  the  ^'■actings^^  of  the  soul ;  e.  g., 
"  Christians  are  able  to  discern  spiritual  things,  sweetly  and  genuinely  to 
act  faith,  love,  submission  to  God,  and  that  in  a  high  and  eminent  manner." 
(On  Forgiveness  Rule  VI ).  Edwards  speaks  of  original  sin  as  the  "  leading 
act,  or  inclination." 

21* 


246  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

thoughtful  portion  of  the  school  freely  acknowledge  that 
it  is  never  exercised,  as  matter  of  fact,  except  under  the 
co-operating  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  view  of 
the  Will,  and  of  self-determination,  then,  teaches  theore- 
tically, at  all  events,  the  doctrine  of  man's  ability  to 
regenerate  himself.  There  is  no  other  action  of  the  Will 
than  that  of  single  volitions,  and  over  these  man  has 
arbitrary  power. 

But  the  true  idea  of  the  Will,  and  of  self-determination, 
while  bringing  man  in  guilty  for  his  sinful  nature  and 
conduct,  forbids  the  attribution  to  him  of  a  self-regenera- 
ting power.  According  to  the  Arminian  theory,  all  the 
action  of  the  Will  consists  of  volitions,  and  one  vohtion 
being  as  much  within  the  power  of  the  man  as  another, 
a  succeeding  volition  can  at  any  moment  reverse  and 
undo  the  preceding.  But,  according  to  what  we  suppose 
to  be  the  true  view  of  the  Will,  there  is  an  action  of  this 
voluntary  power  far  deeper,  and  consequently  far  less 
easily  managed  than  that  of  single  choices.  We  have 
spoken  of  a  deep  and  central  action  of  the  Will,  which 
consists  in  the  determination  and  tendency  of  the  whole 
soul  and  of  the  soul  as  a  ivhole,  and  which  results  in  the 
origination  of  an  inclination,  a  disposition,  a  nature,  in 
distinction  from  a  volition,  or  a  resolution.  We  have 
spoken  of  a  movement  in  the  voluntary  power  that  carries 
the  whole  inward  being  along  with  it.  Now  it  is  plain 
that  such  a  power  as  this  —  including  so  much,  and  run- 
ning so  deep  —  cannot,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
be  such  a  facile  and  easily  managed  power,  as  that  by 
which  we  resolve  to  do  some  particular  thing  in  every 
day  life.  While,  therefore,  we  affirm  that  the  Will,  using 
the  term  in  the  comprehensive  sense  in  which  we  have 
defined  it,  is  a  freely  self-determined  power,  we  deny, 
that  having  once  taken  its  direction,  it  can  reverse  its 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGIXAL    SIN.  247 

motion  by  a  volition  or  resolution.  If  the  Will  were 
only  the  faculty  of  choices  or  volitions,  this  might  be  the 
case ;  but  that  deep  under  current,  that  central  self-deter- 
mination, that  great  main  tendency  of  the  Will  to  self 
and  sin  as  an  ultimate  end,  pannot  be  reversed  and  over- 
come by  any  power  less  profound  and  central,  to  say  the 
very  least,  than  itself.  Surface  action  cannot  reverse  and 
overcome  central  action.  And  we  have  only  to  take  the 
Will  as  thus  conceived,  and  steadily  eye  it  in  this  free 
process  of  self-determination,  to  see  that  there  is  no  power 
in  this  central  tendency  itself,  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  by  which  the  direction  of  its  movement  can  be 
altered.  Take  and  hold  the  sinful  Will  of  man,  in  this 
steady,  this  inmost,  this  total  determination  of  itself  to 
self  as  the  ultimate  end  of  its  existence,  and  say  how  the 
power  that  is  to  reverse  all  this  process  can  possibly  come 
out  of  the  Will,  thus  shut  up^  and  entirely  swallowed^  in 
the  process  *  How  is  the  process  to  destroy  itself,  and 
turn  into  its  own  contrary?  How  is  Satan  to  cast  out 
Satan  ?  Having  once  set  itself,  with  all  its  energy,  in  a 
given  direction,  and  towards  di  final  end,  the  human  Will 
becomes  a  current  that  is  unmanageable  —  a  power  too 
strong  for  itself  to  ti^n  back  —  not  because  of  any  com- 

*  The  Will  in  the  time  of  a  leading  act  or  inclination  that  is  diverse  from 
or  opposite  to  the  command  of  God,  and  \Yhen  actually  under  the  influence 
of  it,  is  not  able  to  exert  itself  to  the  contrary,  to  make  an  alteration  in  order  to 
a  compliance.  The  inclination  is  unable  to  change  itself:  and  that  for  this 
plain  reason  that  it  is  unable  to  incline  to  change  itself  Present  choice 
cannot  at  present  choose  to  be  otherwise  :  for  that  would  be  at  present  to 
choose  something  diverse  from  what  is  at  present  chosen.  If  the  will,  all 
things  now  considered,  inclines  or  chooses  to  go  that  way,  then  it  cannot 
choose,  all  things  now  considered,  to  go  the  other  way,  and  so  cannot 
choose  to  be  made  to  go  the  other  way.  To  suppose  that  the  mind  is  now 
sincerely  inclined  to  change  itself  to  a  diflferent  inclination,  is  to  suppose 
the  mind  is  now  truly  inclined  otherwise  than  it  is  now  inclined. 

Edwards  on  the  Will,  Part  III.  Section  4. 


'748  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

pulsion  or  stress  from  without,  be  it  observed,  but  simply 
because  of  its  own  momentum  and  comprehensiveness  — 
simply  because  of  the  obstinate  and  all-engrossing  energy 
with  which  it  is  perversely  going  in  the  contrary  direction. 
For  the  lohole  Will  is  determined,  if  determined  at  all. 
The  depravity  is  total.  Consequently,  when  a  tendency 
or  determination,  as  distinguished  from  a  volition,  has 
been  taken,  there  is  no  remainder  of  uncommitted  power 
in  reserve,  (as  it  were  behind  the  existing  determination 
or  tendency,)  by  which  the  present  moral  state  of  the 
Will  can  be  reversed.  For  this  determination  or  per- 
manent state  of  the  Will,  as  we  have  observed  again  and 
again,  is  something  very  different  from  a  volition,  which 
does  not  carry  the  whole  soul  along  with  it,  and  which 
therefore  may  be  reversed  by  another  volition  back  of  it. 
When  a  determination  has  occurred,  and  a  nature  has 
been  originated,  the  Will  proper  —  the  ivhole  voluntary 
power  —  is  in  for  it ;  and  hence,  in  the  case  of  sin,  the 
bondage  in  the  very  seat  of  freedom  —  the  absolute  ina- 
bility to  be  holy,  springing  out  of,  and  identical  with,  the 
total  determination  to  be  evil  —  which  is  a  self-determi- 
nation.* 


*  This  non-returning  character  of  the  will,  is  noticed  by  that  subtlest  and 
most  spiritual  of  the  Schoolmen,  Anselm.  Justo  namque  judicio  Dei 
decretum  erat,  et  quasi  chirographo  confirmatum,  ut  homo,  qui  sponte 
peccaverat,  nee  peccatum,  nee  poenam  peccati,  per  se  vitare  posset ;  est 
enim  spiritus  (by  which  Anselm  here  means  voluntas)  vadens,  et  non  rediens ; 
et  qui  facit  peccatum,  serous  est  peccati. 

Cur  Deus  Homo.  Liber  I.  Cap.  VII. 

It  may  be  briefly  remarked  here,  that  the  whole  controversy  respecting 
original  Sin  has  turned  upon  the  conception  of  voluntary  action  held  by  the 
disputing  parties.  In  the  Latin  anthropology,  this  was,  simply  and  only, 
the  power  of  se//'-determination.  That  which  is  se//'-moved  is  voluntary,  by 
virtue  of  this  bare  fact  of  self -vaoiion.  Neither  the  presence  nor  the  absence 
of  a  power  to  the  contrary,  can  destroy  the  existing  fact  that  the  will  is 
moving  spontaneously  and  without  external  compulsion,  and  hence  the 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  249 

It  will  be  seen,  that  according  to  this  theory,  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will  does  not  consist  in  the  ability  to  origin- 
ate a  holy  or  sinful  nature  at  any  instant,  and  according 
to  the  caprice  of  the  individual.  It  does  not  consist  in 
the  ability  to  determine  itself  to  good  or  evil,  as  an  ulti- 
mate end  of  existence,  with  the  same  facility  and  agihty 
with  which  single  choices  can  be  exercised.  It  does  not 
consist  in  an  ability  to  jerk  over  from  one  moral  stale  of 
the  will,  into  a  contrary  moral  state^  at  any  moment,  by 
a  violent  or  a  resolute  etibrt.  The  doctrine  of  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will  does  indeed  require  us  to  affirm  that  the 
Will  is  primarily  aild  constantly  6-^//-moved  —  that  its 
permanent  tendency  and  character  is  not  imposed  upon 
it,  as  the  tendency  of  the  brute  is  imposed  upon  it,  by  the 
creative  act;  but  the  doctrine  does  not  require  us  to 
affirm,  that  when  the  Will  has  once  freely  formed  its 
character,  and  responsibly  originated  its  nature,  it  can 
then,  ad  libitum,  or  by  any  power  then  possessed  by  it, 
form  a  contrary  character,  and  originate  an  entirely  con- 
trary nature  within  itself.  All  that  is  to  be  claimed  is, 
that  at  the  initial  point  in  the  history  of  the  human  Will, 
a  free  and  responsible  start  shall  be  taken,  a  self-deter- 
mination shall  begin  and  continue.  It  is  not  to  be  af- 
firmed, for  it  contradicts  the  experience  of  every  man 
who  has  had  any  valuable  experience  upon  this  subject, 
that  there  is  power  in  the  will  to  cross  and  re-cross  from 
a  sinful  to  a  holy  state^  and  back  again,  at  any  moment  — 

power  to  the  contrary  did  not  enter  as  a  sine  qua  non  into  the  Latin  idea  of 
moral  agency.  It  might  be  lost,  and  actually  had  been,  and  tlie  will  still 
be  a  st?//-determincd  faculty.  In  the  Greek  anthropology,  on  the  contrary, 
voluntariness  was  /?idetcrmination.  The  will,  wliether  fallen  or  unfallen, 
at  all  times  and  in  all  conditions,  could  cither  choose  or  refuse  the  same 
object.  But  that  it  might  do  so,  it  must  be  itself  in  a  state  of  equilil)rium 
or  indifferency,  and  not  actually  committed  or  determined  either  one  way  or  tlio 
Other. 


250  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

that  the  Will  is  in  such  an  indifferent  state  in  regard  to 
the  two  great  ultimate  ends  of  action —  God  and  self — 
that  it  stands  affected  in  precisely  the  same  way  towards 
both,  and  by  a  volition  can  choose  either  at  pleasure. 

(2.)  The  foregoing  statement,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  exhibit,  so  far  as  the  limits  of  an  article  will 
allow,  what  is  conceived  to  be  the  true  idea  of  the  Will, 
and  of  self-determination,  in  distinction  from  the  Armi- 
nian  view  of  them.  We  turn  now  to  the  relation  of 
original  sin  to  Adam,  the  head  and  representative  of  the 
race  of  mankind.  There  is  not  space  to  examine  the 
passages  of  Scripture  which  speak  of  the  connection  of 
the  individual  with  Adam.  We  shall  assunie,  that  such 
a  connection  is  plainly  taught  in  Scripture,  particularly 
in  the  5th  chapter  of  Romans ;  and  at  the  same  time 
barely  call  attention  to  the  fact,  that  the  soundest  creeds 
of  the  Church,  and  that  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  in 
particular,  have  all  recognized  the  connection.  Our 
object  is  to  see  if  the  views  that  have  been  presented  will 
not  throw  some  light  upon  one  of  the  darkest  points  in 
speculative  theology. 

It  will  be  recollected,  that  in  the  first  part  of  this 
article,  it  was  shown  that  the  deepest  and  ultimate  form 
of  sin  is  below^the  sphere  of  consciousness  —  that  we  are 
not  conscious  of  the  sinful  nature,  but  only  of  what  pro- 
ceeds from  it.  It  will  also  be  remembered,  that  this 
original  sin,  or  sinful  nature,  has  been  traced  to  the  Will 
as  its  originating  cause,  and  thereby  found  to  be  a  guilty 
nature.  If,  now,  these  two  points  have  been  made  out, 
it  follows  as  a  corollary,  that  there  is  an  action  of  the 
human  Will  deeper  than  the  ordinary  consciousness  of 
man  reaches.  If  man  is  not  conscious  of  his  sinful 
nature,  and  if,  nevertheless,  that  nature  is  the  product  of 
his  Will  —  is  the  very  state  of  the  Will  itself —  it  follows, 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  251 

that  his  Will  can  put  forth  an  action  of  which  he  is  not 
conscious.  And  if  this  be  so,  it  furthermore  follows,  that 
distinct  consciousness  is  not  an  indispensable  condition 
to  the  origin  and  existence  of  sin  and  guilt  in  the  hu- 
man soul. 

We  are  as  well  aware  as  any  body,  that  a  statement 
like  this  seems  to  carry  on  the  very  face  of  it,  not  a  mys- 
tery merely,  but  an  absurdity.  At  first  sight,  it  seems  to 
be  self-contradictory  to  affirm,  that  the  responsible  action 
of  a  free  moral  agent  can  go  on  in  utter  unconsciousness 
of  the  action  —  that  the  human  Will  can  put  forth  its 
most  important  action,  (action  the  most  criminal,  and 
the  most  tremendous  in  its  consequences,)  in  a  sphere 
too  deep  for  the  agent  to  know  what  he  is  doing.  On 
the  contrary,  it  seems  to  be  plain  as  an  axiom,  that 
knowledge  must  in  every  instance  precede  action  —  that 
the  Will  cannot  act  without  first  distinctly  knowing 
what  it  is  going  to  do.  And  accordingly,  this  is  the  po- 
sition laid  down  in  the  beginning  of  all  the  current  trea- 
tises on  the  Will. 

Now,  without  entering  into  any  process  of  ratiocina- 
tion to  support  a  mere  theory,  we  wish  to  raise  a  simple 
question  of  fact.  Is  it,  then,  a  fact,  that  man  is  conscious 
of  all  the  action  of  his  will  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  from  the 
commencement  of  his  existence,  on  and  down  through 
every  moment  of  his  existence,  he  is  unintermittently  self- 
consrAoKS  of  what  he  is  all  the  while  doing  as  a  moral 
agent?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  the  impenitent  sinner  —  the 
thovghtless  sinner,  as  we  so  often  call  him  in  our  sermons 
—  is  aware  every  moment  of  what  he  is  about  ?  No  man 
will  pretend  that  such  is  the  fact.  Saying  nothing  in 
regard  to  that  deeper  action  of  the  Will,  which  we  have 
denominated  its  determination,  no  one  will  say  that  a 
man  is  distinctly  conscious  of  all  his  volitions  even.  -  f 


252  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

each  and  every  one  of  the  millions  of  choices  which  he 
is  exercising  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  Even  here,  so 
near  the  surface  of  the  soul,  and  with  reference  to  its 
most  palpable  exercises,  no  one  will  be  bold  enough  to 
affirm  a  distinct  consciousness  in  every  instance.  Voli- 
tion after  volition,  choice  after  choice,  is  exercised  by  the 
unaivakened,  unanxious  sinner,  with  all  the  unconscious- 
ness and  mechanism,  so  to  speak,  with  which  the  two 
thousand  volitions  by  which  he  lifts  his  legs  two  thou- 
sand times  in  walking  a  single  mile,  are  exercised.* 

Take  the  first  sinful  man  you  meet,  and  say  how  much 
of  his  daily  existence  goes  on  within  the  sphere  of  self- 
consciousness.  During  how  many  moments  of  the  day 
is  this  moral  agent  aware  of  what  he  is  doing,  as  a  moral 
agent  ?  Of  how  many  of  the  volitions  which  he  puts 
forth  in  the  attainment  of  his  ends  of  living  is  he  dis- 
tinctly conscious  ?  How  many  of  his  emotions  are  exer- 
cised in  the  clear  light  of  self-consciousness,  so  that  he  has 
a  distinct  knowledge  and  sense  of  their  moral  character  ? 
Is  it  not  safe  to  say,  that  whole  days,  it  may  be  whole 
weeks,  and  it  may  be  whole  months,  pass  in  the  lives  of 
many  men,  during  which  there  is  not  a  single  instant  of 
distinct  consciousness,  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  the  agen- 
cies going  on  within  their  souls  ?  And  will  it  do  to  say, 
that  aU  this  while  there  is  no  action  of  the  Will  ? 

The  truth  is,  we  cannot  lay  aside  pre-conceived  opin- 
ions, and  look  at  the  simple  facts  of  the  case,  without 
being  compelled  to  the  position,  that  there  not  only  can 
be,  but  there  actually  is,  action  of  the  Will  that  is  not 

*  That  the  action  in  this  instance  is  voluntary,  in  the  sense  that  the  mus- 
cles and  limbs  are  moved  ultimately  by  acts  of  the  choice,  is  proved  by  the 
fact,  that  the  man  can  stop  walking.  If  it  were  strictly  mechanical  and  in- 
voluntary, the  walker  must  go  on  like  a  clock  until  his  ambulatory  appara- 
tus ran  down. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  253 

polf-coiiscious  action,  and  a  vast  amount  of  it.  And  this 
too,  whether  the  Will  be  regarded  as  the  volitionary  or 
as  the  voluntary  faculty.  If  we  believe  the  Scripture 
doctrine,  that  man  is  evil  continually^  we  must  also  be- 
lieve, that  the  Will  of  man  is  in  continual  action  —  ab- 
sorbed in  an  uninterrupted  tendency  and  determination 
to  self.  The  motion  —  the  Kivr]Gi<^,  —  is  incessant.  But 
we  know  from  observation,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that 
man  is  not  distinctly  conscious  of  a  thousandth  part  of 
this  process,  which  is  nevertheless  steadily  going  on, 
whether  he  thinks  of  it  or  not,  whether  he  is  aware  of  it 
or  not.  If,  now,  while  affirming,  as  we  must,  that  there  is 
no  responsible  action  but  action  of  the  Will,  we  also  affirm, 
as  we  must  not,  that  there  is  no  action  of  the  Will  but 
conscious  action,  we  remove  responsibility  from  the 
greater  part  of  human  life.  Responsibility  and  criminal- 
ity would,  in  this  case,  cleave  only  tq  that  comparatively 
infinitesimal  part  of  a  man's  life  during  which  he  sinned 
deliberately,  and  with  the  consciousness  that  he  was  sin- 
ning. Furthermore,  it  would  follow,  from  this  doctrine, 
that  the  more  entire  the  man's  absorption  in  evil  —  the 
more  thoughtless  and  unconscious  his  life  became  in  re- 
gard to  sin  —  the  less  responsible  he  would  be ;  the  more 
depraved,  the  less  guilty. 

But  in  this  instance  again,  as  in  a  former,  whatever 
may  be  our  theory,  we  do  practically  acknowledge  the 
truth  of  the  doctrine  of  the  responsible  action  of  the 
human  Will,  even  when  there  is,  or  has  been,  no  distinct 
consciousness  of  it.  The  great  aim  of  every  awakening 
sermon  that  we  preach,  is  to  bring  the  sinner  to  the  distinct 
perception  of  what  he  i5,  and  is  doings  as  a  free  moral 
agent.  And  observe,  the  aim  of  the  sermon  is  not  simply  to 
aid  the  memory  of  the  sinner  —  to  furnish  him  an  inven- 
22 


254  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

toiy  or  catalogue  of  his  past  transgressions  —  but,  in  the 
strict  meaning  of  the  expressive  phrase,  to  bring  him  to  — 
to  bring  Mm  to  himself.  The  object  of  every  awalvening 
sermon,  and  the  end  had  in  view  by  the  Holy  Spirit 
when  He  sets  it  home,  is  to  bring  the  sinner  to  a  distinct 
self-consciousness  in  regard  to  sin  —  to  make  him  realize 
the  awful  truth,  that  during  his  whole  past  life  of  thought- 
lessness and  unconsciousness  of  what  he  has  been,  and 
been  about,  his  Will  has  been  active,  and  that  from  the 
inmost  centre  to  the  outward  circumference,  this  action 
has  been  criminal ;  and  still  more  than  this,  to  make  him 
realize,  that  now^  at  this  very  instant,  his  Will  is  set- 
ting itself  with  a  deep,  and  as  yet  to  him,  unconscious 
determination  towards  evil,  as  an  ultimate  end  of  action. 
The  object  of  conviction,  in  short,  is  to  impart  to  the 
sinner  a  conscious  knowledge  of  that  sin,  the  major  part 
of  which  came  into  existence  without  his  conscious 
knowledge,  but  by  no  means  without  his  Will. 

We  need  only  take  a  passage  that  frequently  occurs 
in  the  common  Christian  experience  to  see  the  truth  of 
the  view  here  presented.  How  often  the  Christian  finds 
himself  already  in  a  train  of  thought,  or  of  feeling,  that 
is  contrary  to  the  divine  law.  Notice  that  he  did  not  go 
into  this  train  of  thought  or  feelhig  deliberately,  and  with 
a  distinct  consciousness  of  what  he  was  doing.  The 
first  he  knows  is,  that  he  is  already  caught  in  the  pro- 
cess. Thought  and  feeling  in  this  instance  have  been 
unconsciously  exercised  in  accordance  with  that  central 
and  abiding  determination  of  the  Will  towards  self,  of 
which  we  have  spoken;  in  other  words,  the  Will  has 
been  unconsciously  putting  forth  its  action,  in  and  through 
the  powers  of  thought  and  feeling,  as  the  self-reproach 
and  sense  of  guilt  consequent  upon  such  exercises  of  the 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  255 

soul,  are  proof  positive.*  The  moment  the  Christian 
man  comes  to  distinct  consciousness  in  regard  to  this  ac- 
tion that  has  been  going  on,  "  without  his  thinking  of 
it,"  (as  we  say  in  common  parlance,)  he  acknowledges  it 
as  criminal  action,  responsible  action,  action  of  the 
"Will.  The  fact  that  he  was  not  thinking  —  that  the 
Will  was  acting  unconsciously — subtracts  nothing  from 
his  sense  of  guilt  in  the  case. 

And  if  there  is  unconscious  action  of  the  Will  in  these 
instances,  which  occur  in  the  e very-day  experience  of 
the  individual  Christian,  much  more  should  w^e  expect 
to  find  unconscious  action  in  the  case  of  that  deepest 
and  primal  movement  of  the  Will  w^iich  is  denominated 
the  Fall.  If,  in  the  instance  of  the  development  or  un- 
folding of  sin,  there  is  much  of  this  unconscious  volun- 
tary action,  much  more  should  we  expect  to  find  it  in 
that  instance  when  the  profound  basis  itself,  for  this  de- 
velopment, was  laid.  If  there  is  mystery  in  the  stalk 
above  ground,  much  more  must  w^e  expect  to  find  it  in 
the  dark  long  root  under  ground.  The  fall  of  the  human 
Will  unquestionably  occurs  back  of  consciousness,  and  in 
a  region  beyond  the  reach  of  it.  Certainly  no  one  of 
the  posterity  of  Adam  w^as  ever  conscious  of  that  act 
whereby  his  Will  fell  from  God ;  and  even  with  regard 
to  Adam  himself,  the  remark  of  Augustine  is  true  — 
that  he  had  already  fallen  before .  he  ate  the  forbidden 
fruit.  This  remark  is  strictly  true,  and  characterized  by 
those  two  traits  in  which  Augustine  never  had  a  supe- 
rior—  depth  and  penetration.  The  act  of  conscious 
transgression  in  the  case  of  Adam  sprung  from  an  evil 

*  It  is  evident  that  tliere  may  be  thinking  without  thitikiiifj  of  thinking, 
as  there  may  be  actinjj:  without  thinking  of  acting.  In  these  instances  there 
is  both  thoujrht  and  action  without  self-consciousness  of  either. 


256  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

nature  that  had  already  been  unconsciou.sly  generated  in 
his  Will.  He  would  not  have  eaten  of  the  tree,  if  he 
had  not  in  his  soul  already  fallen  from  God. 

We  may,  in  this  connection,  add  furthermore,  that  the 
other  OTeat  chans^e  which  occurs  in  the  human  Will  — 
viz.,  its  renovation  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  its  determi- 
nation to  God  as  an  ultimate  end,  consequent  thereon  — 
also  occurs  below  the  sphere  of  consciousness.  Ail  ac- 
knowledge that  there  is  no  consciousness  of  the  regenerat- 
ing act  itself,  but  only  of  its  consequences ;  and  yet  even 
the  most  careful  theologian  must  acknowledge,  that  there 
is  action  of  the  Will  of  some  sort  in  this  instance  ;  that 
the  renovating  action  is  in  the  Will  and  in  accordance 
with  its  freedom,  though  by  no  means,  as  in  the  case  of 
sin,  to  be  referred  solely  to  the  Will. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show,  that,  unless  we  would 
unclothe  most  of  human  existence  of  its  responsibility, 
we  must  assume  the  possibility  and  reality  of  an  action 
of  the  Will,  which  is  unaccompanied  by  distinct  con- 
sciousness on  the  part  of  the  individual  man.  And  this 
is  eminently  true  of  that  deepest  action  of  the  Will, 
by  which  a  nature  is  generated,  and  a  character  is  origi- 
nated. That  action  of  the  human  Will,  which  is  denom- 
inated its  fall,  which  lies  under  the  whole  sinful  history 
and  development  of  the  individual  man  —  which  is 
the  ground  and  source  of  all  his  conscious  transgres- 
sion —  is,  without  contradiction,  unconscious  action.  The 
moral  consciousness  of  man,  taken  at  its  very  rise,  is  the 
consciousness  of  guilt  —  which  fact  shows  that  the  re- 
sponsible action,  lying  under  it,  as  its  just  cause  and 
valid  ground,  has  already  occurred.  If  there  is  anij  guilt 
in  falling  from  God,  the  human  soul  incurs  that  guilt  in 
every  instance,  without  distinct  consciousness  of  the  process 
by  ivhich  it  is  brought  about.    If  the  origination  of  a  sinful 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  257 

nature  —  of  an  abiding  wrong  state  of  the  Will  —  is  a  crim- 
inal procedure  on  the  part  of  the  soul,  and  justly  exposes 
it  to  the  Divine  Anger,  it  is  yet  a  procedure  that  occurs 
unconsciously  to  the  soul  itself.  And  in  saying  this,  we 
are  manufacturing  no  theory,  but  simply  setting  forth  the 
simple  actual  facts  of  the  case.  There  is  no  avoiding  the 
conclusion,  unless  we  are  bold  enough  to  affirm  that  only 
that  portion  of  a  sinner's  life  is  responsible  and  guilty, 
during  which  he  sins  deliberately,  and  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  is  sinning. 

We  have  called  attention  to  this  fact,  that  the  human 
Will  can  and  does  put  forth  its  deepest  action  below  the 
sphere  of  consciousness,  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  connection  of  original  sin,  as  found  in 
each  individual,  with  the  fall  of  Adam.  If  this  hypo- 
thesis of  the  unconscious  action  of  the  Will  has  been 
established,  the  only  serious  objection  will  have  been  re- 
moved, that  can  be  made  to  wiiat  we  suppose  is  the 
Scriptural  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the  connec- 
tion of  the  individual  with  Adam,  contained  in  the  West- 
minster Assembly's  Catechism.  According  to  the  form 
of  doctrine  laid  down  by  that  body  of  profound  and 
learned  divines,  each  individual  of  the  human  race  is 
supposed  to  have  been  in  some  way  responsibly  present 
in  Adam,  and  responsibly  sharing  in  his  apostasy  from 
God.  The  statement  in  the  creed  which  they  drew  up, 
is  as  follows :  —  "  The  covenant  being  made  with  Adam, 
not  only  for  himself  but  for  his  posterity,  all  mankind 
descending  from  him  by  ordinary  generation  sinned  in 
him  and  fell  irith  him  in  his  first  transgression."  And 
the  two  strongest  texts  which  they  cite  in  proof  of  the 
truth  of  their  creed,  are  these :  "  By  one  man's  disobe- 
dience, many  were  made  sinners."  (Rom.  5:  19.)  "  In 
Adam  all  die."     (1  Cor.  15 :  22.) 

22* 


258  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGIIMAL    SIN. 

Now  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  these  men  were 
making  distinct  and  scientific  statements,  and  their  lan- 
guage, consequently,  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  merely 
metaphorical.  It  must,  therefore,  be  understood  in  the 
same  way  that  scientific  language  is  always  to  be  un- 
derstood—  be  taken  in  its  literal  meaning,  unless  a 
palpable  contradiction  or  absurdity  is  involved  in  so 
doing.  In  this  doctrinal  and  scientific  statement,  then, 
it  is  affirmed,  that  all  men  sinned  in  Adam,  and  fell 
with  Adam  in  his  first  transgression.  This  implies  and 
teaches  that  all  men  were^  in  some  sense,  co-existent  in 
Adam,  otherwise  they  could  not  have  sinned  in  him.  It 
teaches  that  all  men  were,  in  some  sense,  co-agent  in 
Adam,  otherwise  they  could  not  have  fallen  with  him. 
The  mode  of  this  co-existence  and  co-agency  of  the 
whole  human  race  in  the  first  man,  they  do  not,  it  is 
true,  attempt  to  set  forth ;  but  their  language  distinctly 
implies  that  they  believed  there  was  such  a  co-existence 
and  co-agency,  whether  it  could  be  explained  or  not. 
They  regarded  Adam  not  merely  as  an  individual,  but 
as  a  common  person ;  as  having  a  generic  as  well  as  in- 
dividual character.  They  taught  that  he  was  substan- 
tially the  race  of  mankind,  and  that  his  whole  posterity 
existed  in  him.  Consequently,  whatever  befell  Adam, 
befell  the  race.  In  Adam's  fall,  the  race  fell.  And  what 
is  to  be  particularly  noted  is,  that  they  did  not  regard 
the  fall  of  Adam  considered  as  an  individual,  as  any 
more  guilty  than  the  fall  of  each  and  every  one  of 
his  posterity,  or  that  original  sin  was  any  the  less  guilt 
in  his  posterity  than  it  was  in  him.  So  far  as  responsi- 
bility was  concerned,  Adam  and  his  posterity  were  all 
alike  guilty  of  apostasy.  They  were  all  involved  in  a 
common  condemnation,  because  they  were  all  alike  con- 
current in  the  fall.     The  race  fell  in  Adam,  and  conse- 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  259 

quently  each  individual  of  the  race  was  in  some  mysteri- 
ous yet  real  manner,  existent  in  this  common  parent  of 
all.* 


*  This  phraseology  is  not  to  be  understood  as  implying  that  the  indivi- 
dual is  in  the  genus  as  a  distinct  individual.  Adam,  as  the  generic  man, 
was  not  a  mere  receptacle  containing  millions  of  separnte  individuals. 
The  genus  is  not  an  aggregation,  hut  a  single,  simple,  essence.  As  such,  it 
is  not  yet  characterized  by  individuality.  It,  however,  becomes  varied  and 
manifold  by  being  individualized  in  its  propagation^  or  development  into  a 
series.  The  individual  consec^uently  (with  the  exception  of  the  first  man, 
who  is  immediately  created,  and  is  botli  individual  and  generic)  is  al- 
ways the  result  of  propagation,  and  not  of  creation.  In  the  instance  of 
man,  the  creation  proper  is  the  origination  of  the  generic  specie*,  which 
species  is  individualized  in  its  propagation  under  the  preserving,  and  provi- 
dential, (but  not  now  creating.)  agency  of  ilie  Creator.  The  individual,  as 
such,  is  consequently  only  a  subsequent  modus  existendi ;  the  first  and  ante- 
cedent mode  being  the  generic  humanity,  of  which  this  subsequent  serial 
mode  is  only  another  aspect  or  manifestation.  Had  the  members  of  the 
series  of  human  generations  existed  in  their  proper  individuality  in  the  pro- 
genitor, there  would  have  been  no  need  of  the  subsequent  process  of  indivi- 
dualization, or  propagation. 

The  doctrine  of  Traducianism  is  unquestionably  more  accordant  with 
that  of  original  sin  than  that  of  Creationism,  and  the  otjly  reason  why  Au- 
gustine, and  others  after  him,  hesitated  with  regard  to  its  formal  adoption, 
was  its  supposed  incompatibility  with  the  doctrir.e  of  the  soul's  immaterial- 
ity and  immortality.  If,  however,  the  distinction  between  creation  and 
development  be  clearly  conceived  and  rigorously  observed,  it  will  be  seen 
that  there  is  no  danger  of  materialism  in  the  doctrine  of  the  soul's  propaga- 
tion. For  development  cannot  change  the  essence  of  that  which  is  being 
developed.  It  must  unfold  that,  and  only  that,  which  is  given  in  creation. 
Now,  granting  the  creation  of  the  generic  man  in  his  totality  of  soul  and 
body,  it  is  plain  that  his  mere  individualization  by  propagation  must  leave 
both  his  physical  and  spiritual  natures  as  it  found  them,  so  far  as  this  dis- 
tinction between  mind  and  matter  is  concerned.  For  matter  cannot  be 
converted  into  mind  by  mere  expansion,  and  neither  can  mind  be  changed 
into  matter  by  it.  Both  parts  of  man  will,  therefore,  preserve  their  origin- 
al created  qualities  and  characteristics  in  this  process  of  propagation,  or  in- 
dividualizing of  the  generic,  which  is  conducted,  moreover,  beneath  the  pre- 
serving and  providential  agency  of  the  Creator.  That  which  is  llesh  will 
be  propagated  as  flesh,  and  that  which  is  spirit  will  be  propagated  as  spirit; 
and  this  because  mere  propagation,  or  development,  cannot  change  the  kind 
or  essence.    If,  therefore,  it  is  conceded  that  the  creation  oi  muii  was  com- 


260  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

It  is  on  this  ground  that  they  taught  that  original  sin 
is  real  sin  —  is  guilt.  The  sinful  nature  they  held,  could 
be  properly  charged  upon  every  child  of  Adam,  as  a  na- 
ture for  which  he,  and  not  his  Creator,  was  responsible, 
and  w^hich  rendered  him  obnoxious  to  the  eternal  dis- 
pleasure of  God  —  even  though,  as  in  the  case  of  infants 
dying  before  the  dawn  of  self-consciousness,  this  nature 
should  never  have  manifested  itself  in  conscious  trans- 
gression. Every  child  of  Adam  fell  from  God,  in  Adam, 
and  together  with  Adam,  and  therefore  is  justly  charge- 
able with  all  that  Adam  is  chargeable  with,  and  precise- 
ly on  the  same  ground,  viz.,  on  the  ground  that  his  fall 
was  not  necessitated,  but  self-determined.  For  the  Will 
of  Adam  was  not  the  Will  of  a  single  isolated  indivi- 
dual merely :  it  was  also,  and  besides  this,  the  Will  of 
the  human  species  —  the  human  Will  generically.  If  he 
fell  freely,  so  did  his  posterity  —  yet  not  one  after  an- 
other, and  each  by  himself,  as  the  series  of  individuals, 
in  which  the  one  seminal  human  nature  manifests  itself, 
were  born  into  the  world,  but  all  together  and  all  at 
once,  in  that  first  transgression,  which  stands'  a  most 
awful  and  awfully  pregnant  event  at  the  beginning  of 
human  history. 

The  aim  of  the  Westminster  symbol  accordingly,  and, 
it  may  be  added,  of  all  the  creeds  on  the  Augustinian 
side  of  the  controversy,  was  to  combine  two  elements, 
each  having  truth  in  it  —  to  teach  the  fall  of  the  human 
race  as  a  unity,  and,  at  the  same  time,  recognize  the  ex- 
istence, freedom,  and  guilt  of  the  individual  in  the  fail. 
Accordingly  they  locate  the  individual  in   Adam,   and 

plete,  involving  the  origination  from  non-entity  of  the  entire  humanity  as  a 
synthesis  of  matter  and  mind,  flesh  and  spirit,  then  it  follows  that  mere 
propagation,  taking  him  up  at  this  point,  cannot  change  the  essence  upon 
either  side  of  the  complex  being,  but  can  only  individualize  it. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  2(51 

make  him,  in  some  mysterious  but  real  manner,  a  re- 
sponsible partaker  in  Adam's  sin  —  a  guilty  sharer,  and, 
in  some  solid  sense  of  the  word,  co-ag-ent  in  a  common 
apostasy.  As  proof  of  this  assertion,  we  shall  quote 
from  a  few  of  the  leading  authors  on  this  side  of  the 
great  controversy. 

Augustine,  although  the  first  to  philosophize  upon  this 
dilficult  point,  in  order  to  bring  it  within  the  limits  of  a 
doctrinal  system,  has,  nevertheless,  as  it  seems  to  us,  not 
been  excelled  by  any  of  his  successors  in  the  profundity 
and  comprehensiveness  of  his  views.  He  is  explicit  in 
teaching  the  oneness  of  the  human  race  in  Adam,  and 
of  the  fall  of  Adam  and  his  posterity  in  the  first  trans- 
gression, hi  his  work  on  the  desert  and  remission  of 
sin,  he  says :  "  All  men  at  that  time  sinned  in  Adam, 
since,  in  his  nature,  all  men  were  as  yet  that  one  man."  * 
And  the  sentiment  is  repeated  still  more  distinctly  in 
that  most  elaborate  of  his  treatises  —  De  Civitate  Dei;  a 
work  which  was  the  fruit  of  mature  reason,  and  ripe 
Christian  ^experience,  and  which,  notwithstanding  the 
crudity  of  some  of  its  speculations  on  subjects  pertain- 
ing to  the  sensuous  nature  of  man,  and  to  the  physical 
nature  generally,  is  unrivalled  for  the  depth  and  clear- 
ness of  its  insight  into  all  that  is  distinctively  and  pure- 
ly spiritual.  "  We  were  all  in  that  one  man,  since  we 
ivere  all  that  one  man,  who  lapsed  into  sin  through  that 
woman,  who  was  made  from  him  previous  to  trans- 
gression. The  form  in  ivhich  lue  icere  to  live  as  individ- 
tials  had  not  been  created  and  assigned  to  vs,  man  by  man^ 
but  that  seminal  nature  was  in  existence,  from  which  we 
were  to  be  propagated."  f      In  ^he  words  of  Neaiider, 

*  In  Ailaino  omnes  tunc  pecoaverunt,  quando  in  ejus  natura  adIiUL-  oinncs 
ille  unus  fiierunt. —  ])e  pec.  nicr.  et  rem.  III.  7. 

t  Omnes  enim  fuiinus  in  illo  uno,  quando  otnnos  fuinius  ille  unus,  qui 


262  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

"  Augustine,  supposed  not  only  that  that  bondage,  under 
the  principle  of  sin,  by  which  sin  is  its  own  punishment, 
was  transmitted  by  the  progenitor  of  the  human  race  to 
his  posterity ;  but  also  that  the  first  transgression,  as  an 
act,  was  to  be  imputed  to  the  whole  human  race  —  that 
the  guilt  and  the  penalty  were  propagated  from  one  to 
all.  This  participation  of  all  in  Adam's  transgression, 
Augustine  made  clear  to  his  own  mind  in  this  way : 
Adam  was  the  representative  of  the  whole  race,  and 
bore  in  himself  the  entire  human  nature  and  kind,  in 
germ,  since  it  was  from  him  that  it  unfolded  itself.  And 
this  theory  would  easily  blend  with  Augustine's  specula- 
tive form  of  thought,  as  he  had  appropriated  to  himself 
the  Platonico- Aristotelian  realism,  in  the  doctrine  of 
general  conceptions,  and  conceived  of  general  conceptions 
as  the  original  types  of  the  kind  realized  in  individual 
things^^  * 

Calvin,  though  not  so  explicit  as  his  predecessor  Au- 
gustine, or  as  some  of  his  successors,  in  regard  to  the 
precise  nature  of  the  individual's  connection  with  Adam, 
yet  leaves  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  that  he  be- 
lieved in  the  original  oneness  of  Adam  and  his  posterity, 
in  the  act  of  apostasy.  He  says :  "  It  is  certain  that 
Adam  was  not  only  the  progenitor,  but,  as  it  were,  the 
root  of  mankind,  and  therefore  all  the  race  were  necessa- 
rily vitiated  in  his  corruption."  Again  he  says :  "  He 
who  pronounces  that  we  were  all  dead  in  Adam,  does  also, 
at  the  same  time,  plainly  declare  that  we  were  implica- 
ted in  the  guilt  of  his  sin.     For  no  condemnation  could 


per  feminam  lapsus  est  in  peccatum,  qiire  de  illo  facta  est  ante  peccatum. 
Noniluni  emt  nobis  sinjj^illatim  creata  et  distributa  forma,  in   qua  singuli 
viveremus;  sed  jam  natura  erat  seminalis  ex  qua  propagaremur. — De  Civ. 
Dei.  XIII.  14. 
*  Torrey's  Neander,  II.  609. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  2G3 

reach  those  who  were  perfectly  clear  from  all  charge  of 
iniquity,"  [as  Adam's  posterity  would  be,  were  each  and 
every  man  merely  a  distinct  and  isolated  individual,  ex- 
isting entirely  by  himself.]  Again  he  says  :  "  No  other 
explanation,  therefore,  can  be  given  of  our  being  said  to 
be  in  Adam,  than  that  his  transgression  not  only  procur- 
ed misery  and  ruin  for  himself,  but  also  precipitated  our 
nature  into  similar  destruction ;  and  that  not  by  his  per- 
sonal guilt  as  an  individual,  which  pertains  not  to  us, 
but  because  he  infected  all  his  descendants  with  the  cor- 
ruption into  which  he  had  fallen."* 

John  Owen  is  more  explicit  still,  and  he  unquestion- 
ably reflects  the  views  of  the  Westminster  divines,  to 
say  nothing  of  his  general  profundity  and  clearness  on 
all  points  of  systematic  theology.  In  his  treatise,  enti- 
tled "  A  Display  of  Arminianism,"  f  in  connection  with 
some  other  answers  to  the  objection  that  original  sin  is 
not  voluntary,  and  therefore  cannot  be  sin  in  the  sense  of 
guilt,  he  expressly  affirms  that  it  is  voluntary,  in  some 
sense  of  J;hat  word  —  that  it  has  the  element  of  free  self- 
determination  in  it.  "  But,  thirdly,"  he  says,  "  in  respect 
to  our  wills,  we  are  not  thus  innocent  neither,  for  we  all 
sinned  in  Adam,  as  the  apostle  affirmeth.  Now  all  sin  is 
voluntary,  say  the  remonstrants,  [the  party  whom  Owen 
was  opposing,  but  whose  statement  in  this  case  he  was 
willing  to  grant,]  and  therefore  Adam's  transgression 
was  om'  voluntary  sin  also,  and  that  in  divers  respects ; 
^first,  in  that  his  voluntary  act  is  imputed  to  us  as  ours, 
by  reason  of  the  covenant  which  was  made  with  him  in 
our  behalf;  but  because  this  consisting  in  an  imputation, 
must  needs  be  extrinsical  to  us ;  therefore,  secondly^  we 

*  Institutes,  Book  II.  Chapter  1.     Allen's  Trans- 
t  Works,  V.  127.    Russell's  Ed. 


264  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

say  that  Adam,  being  the  root  and  head  of  all  human 
kind,  and  we  all  branches  from  that  root,  ail  parts  of  that 
body  whereof  he  was  the  head,  his  will  may  be  said  to 
be  ours ;  we  were  then  all  that  one  man,  (oranes  eramus 
unus  ille  homo,  Aug.,)  we  were  all  in  him,  and  had  no 
other  will  but  his ;  so  that  though  that  (viz.,  Adam's  will) 
be  extrinsical  unto  us,  considered  as  particular  persons, 
yet  it  (viz.,  Adam's  will)  is  intrinsical,  as  we  are  all  parts 
of  one  common  nature;  as  in  him  we  sinned,  so  in  him 
we  had  a  will  of  sinning."  In  a  passage  in  his  "  Vindi- 
cisB  EvangehcaB,"*  he  also  says,  "By  Adam  sin  entered 
into  the  world,  so  that  all  sinned  in  him,  and  are  made 
sinners  thereby  —  so  that  also  his  sin  is  called  the  '  sin 
of  the  world ; '  in  him  all  mankind  sinned,  and  his  sin  is 
imputed  to  them."  f 

*  AVorks,  VIII.  p.  222.     Russell's  Ed. 

t  This  same  reasoning,  from  the  basis  of  realism,  is  seen  in  John  Robin- 
son, the  pastor  of  the  Plymouth  Pilgrims.  In  his  "  Defence  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  Synod  of  Dort,"  he  answers  the  question,  Did  infants  sin  in  Adam  1 
—  in  the  affirmative,  on  the  ground  that  they  "  had  being  in  Adam  after  a 
sort,  namely,  so  far  as  they  were  in  him.  If  they  had  being  in  Adam  any 
way,  they  had  life  also  in  him  ;  for  rothing  in  Adam  was  dead,  but  all 
living;  their  being,  therefore,  so  far  as  it  was  in  him,  was  a  living  being." 
This  '  being,'  Robinson  goes  on  to  argue,  was  that  of  a  rational  existence 
composed  of  understanding  and  will.  —  Robinson's  Works,  I.  404  et  seq. 
Congregational  Board's  Ed. 

Leigh,  a  graduate  of  Magdalen  Hall,  Oxford,  published  a  system  of  divin- 
ity in  1654,  which  has  the  imprimatur  of  Edmund  Calamy.  In  it  we  find 
the  following  : 

"  The  first  Adam  represented  all  mankind,  and  the  second  all  the  elect 
God  might  as  well  ground  an  imputation  on  a  natural,  as  on  a  mystical,  union 
Omnes  eramus  unus  ille  homo,  (Augustine) ;  therefore  the  sin  of  that  one  man 
is  the  sin  of  us  all. 

"  Objection.  This  sin  of  Adam,  being  but  one,  could  not  defile  the  uni- 
versal nature.     Socinus. 

^'■Answer.  Adam  had  in  him  the  whole  nature  of  mankind,  1  Cor.  15: 
47 ;  by  one  offence  the  whole  nature  of  man  was  defiled,  Rom.  5 :  12,  17. 

"  Objection.  Adam's  sin  was  not  voluntary  in  us,  we  never  gave  consent 
to  it. 

"  Answer.     There  is  a  two-fold  will,    i .  Voluntas  naturae,  the  whole  nature 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  265 

One  more  quotation  shall  suffice,  in  corroboration  of 
the  view  presented  of  the  oneness  of  Adam  and  his  pos- 
terity, in  respect  both  to  the  act  and  the  guilt  of  apos- 
tasy, and  this  shall  be  from  Jonathan  Edwards.  In  his 
treatise  upon  original  sin,  after  citing  the  passage,  "  By 
one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,"  he  adds,  "  this  pas- 
sage implies  that  sin  became  universal  in  the  world,  and 
not  merely  (which  would  be  a  trifling  insignificant  asser- 
tion) that  one  man,  who  was  made  first,  sinned  first,  be- 

of  man  was  represented  in  Adam,  therefore  the  will  of  nature  was  sufficient 
to  convey  the  sin  of  nature.  2.  Voluntas  personae,  by  every  actual  sin  we 
justify  Adam's  breach  of  covenant.  Rom.  .5  :  12,  19  seems  clear  for  the  im- 
putation of  Adam's  sin.  All  were  in  Adam^  and  sinned  in  him,  as,  after 
Augustine,  Beza  doth  interpret  e^'  w  in  Rom.  5  :  12 ;  and  so  our  last  trans- 
lators in  the  margent.  And  though  it  be  rendered,  '  for  that  all  have  sin- 
ned,' by  us,  the  Syriac,  Erasmus,  Vatablus,  Calvin,  and  Piscatorius,  ye<  must 
it  he  so  understood  that  all  hive  sinned  in  Adam.  For  othenvise,  it  is  not  true 
that  all  upon  ivhom  death  hath  passed  have  sinned,  as  namely  infants  newly  born. 
It  is  not  said  all  are  sinners,  but,  all  have  sinned,  which  imports  an  imputa- 
tion of  Adam's  act  unto  his  posterity. 

"  Some  divines  do  not  differ  so  much  re.  as  modo  loquendi  about  this  point. 
They  grant  the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin  to  his  posterity,  in  some  sense, 
so  as  that  there  is  a  communication  of  it  with  them,  and  the  guilt  is  charg- 
ed upon  them,  yet  they  deny  the  imputation  of  it  to  posterity  as  it  was 
Adams's  personal  sin.  But  it  is  not  to  be  considered  as  Adam's  personal 
sin,  but  as  the  sin  of  all  mankind,  whose  person  Adam  did  then  represent. 
Adam's  personal  sin  did  infect  the  whole  nature,  and  ever  since  the  nature 
hath  infected  the  personal  actions." — Leigh's  Body  of  Divinity,  Book  IV. 
Chap.  1. 

"  The  whole  history  of  the  first  man  evinces,  that  he  was  not  looked  upon 
as  an  individual  person,  but  that  the  whole  human  nature  was  considered 
in  him.  For  it  was  not  said  to  our  first  parents  only,  Increase  and  multiply ; 
by  virtue  of  which  words  the  propagation  of  the  human  race  is  still  contin- 
ued ;  nor  is  it  true  of  Adam  only.  It  is  not  good  that  man  should  be  alone;  nor 
does  that  conjugal  law  concern  him  alone.  Therefore  shall  a  man  leave  his 
father  and  his  mother,  and  these  two  shall  be  one  flesh  ;  which  Christ  still  urges 
(Mt.  19 :  5) ;  nor  did  the  penalty,  which  God  threatened  to  Adam  in  case  of 
sin,  affect  him  alone.  Dying  thou  shalt  die ;  but  death  passed  upon  all  men,  as 
the  Apostle  observes.  All  which  loudly  proclaim,  that  Adam  was  here 
considered  as  the  head  of  mankind."—  Witsius  on  the  Covenants,  II.  14. 

23 


266  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

fore  other  men  sinned ;  or  that  it  did  not  so  happen  that 
many  men  began  to  sin  just  together  at  the  same  mo- 
ment." "  The  latter  part  of  the  verse"  (he  goes  on  to  say) 
*  and  death  by  sin,  and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men, 
for  that  all  have  sinned,'  shows  that  in  the  eye  of  the 
Judge  of  the  world,  in  Adam's  first  sin  all  sinned ;  not 
only  in  some  sort,  but  all  sinned  so  as  to  be  exposed  to 
that  death  and  final  destruction,  which  is  the  proper  ivag-es 
ofsin.^^*  In  another  chapter  of  this  treatise  he  combats  the 
objection  made  against  the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin  to 
his  posterity  "  that  such  imputation  is  unjust  and  un- 
reasonable, inasmuch  as  Adam  and  his  posterity  are  not 
one  and  the  same,"  (one  of  the  principal  objections  to 
the  doctrine,  and  a  fatal  one,  if  it  can  maintained).  He 
combats  it  by  denying  the  truth  of  the  affirmation,  that 
Adam  and  his  posterity  are  not  one  and  the  same,  and 
by  establishing  the  contrary  position  by  as  profound  and 
truthful  a  course  of  speculation  as  ever  emanated  from  his 
mind.  "  I  think,"  (he  says)  "  it  would  go  far  towards 
directing  us  to  the  more  clear  and  distinct  conceiving  and 
right  stating  of  this  affair,  (of  original  sin,)  were  we 
steadily  to  bear  this  in  mind :  that  God,  in  each  step  of 
his  proceeding  with  Adam,  in  relation  to  the  covenant 
or  constitution  established  with  him,  looked  on  his  pos- 
terity as  being  one  with  him.  *  *  *  Therefore,  I  am 
humbly  of  opinion,  that  if  any  have  supposed  the  chil- 
dren of  Adam  to  come  into  the  world  with  a  double 
guilt :  one,  the  guilt  of  Adam's  sin ;  another,  the  guilt 
arising  from  their  having  a  corrupt  heart,  they  have  not 
so  well  conceived  of  the  matter.  The  guilt  a  man  has  on 
his  soul  at  his  first  existence  is  one  and  simple,  viz.,  the 
guilt  of  the  original  apostasy,  the  guilt  of  the  sin  by 

*  The  italics  are  Edwards's,  and  the  italics  of  Edwards  are  always  sig« 
nificant. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  267 

which  the  species  first  rebelled  from  God.  *  *  The 
first  existing'  of  a  corrupt  disposition  in  the  hearts  of 
Adam's  posterity  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  sin  belong- 
ing to  them,  distinct  from  their  participation  of  Adam's 
first  sin:  it  is,  as  it  were,  the  extended  pollution  of  that  sin, 
through  the  whole  tree,  by  virtue  of  the  constituted  union 
of  the  branches  with  the  root ;  or  the  inherence  of  the  sin 
of  that  head  of  the  species  in  the  members,  in  the  con- 
sent and  concurrence  of  the  hearts  of  the  members, 
with  the  head  in  that  first  act."  Edwards  also  quotes 
with  approbation  the  following  from  Stapfer :  "  It  is  ob- 
jected against  the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin,  that  we 
never  committed  the  same  sin  with  Adam,  neither  in 
number  nor  in  kind.  I  answer,  we  should  distinguish 
here  between  the  physical  act  itself,  which  Adam  com- 
mitted, and  the  morality  of  the  action  and  consent  to  it. 
If  we  have  respect  only  to  the  external  act,  to  be  sure  it 
must  be  confessed  that  Adam's  posterity  did  not  put 
forth  their  hands  to  the  forbidden  fruit :  in  which  sense 
that  act  of  transgression,  and  that  faQ  of  Adam,  cannot 
be  physically  one  with  the  sin  of  his  posterity.  But  if 
we  consider  the  morality  of  the  action,  [i.  e.  the  volun- 
tary ground  of  it,]  and  what  consent  there  is  to  it,  it  is 
altogether  to  be  maintained  that  his  posterity  committed 
the  same  sin  both  in  number  and  in  kind,  inasmuch  as 
they  are  to  be  looked  upon  as  consenting  to  it :  for  where 
there  is  a  consent  to  a  sin,  there  the  same  sin  is  commit- 
ted. Seeing,  therefore,  that  Adam,  with  all  his  poster- 
ity, constitute  but  one  moral  person,  and  are  united  in 
the  same  covenant,  and  are  transgressors  of  the  same 
law,  they  are  also  to  be  looked  upon  as  having,  in  a 
moral  estimation,  committed  the  same  transgression  of 
the  law  both  in  manner  and  in  kind."  Edwards  finally 
remarks,   that  all  the  objections  that  can   be   brought 


268  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

against  the  doctrine  of  the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin  to 
his  posterity,  are  summed  up  in  this  assumption  and 
assertion  —  viz.,  that  Adam  and  his  posterity  are  not 
originally  one,  but  are  from  first  to  last  entirely  distinct 
and  individual  agents :  this  assumption  he  earnestly  de- 
nies, and  enters  into  a  long  and  subtle  investigation,  well 
worthy  any  man's  study,  of  what  is  meant  by  personal 
identity,  to  show  that  there  is  no  absurdity  or  contradic- 
tion in  the  hypothesis,  that,  by  the  divine  establishment 
and  constitution,  all  of  Adam's  posterity  were,  in  some 
real  and  important  sense,  in  him  and  one  with  him.* 

Any  one  who  will  take  the  pains  to  study  the  history 
of  the  doctrine  of  original  sin,  and  to  trace  its  develop- 
ment, will  find  that  the  more  profound  minds  in  the  Chris- 
tian church  have  ever  sought  to  reheve  the  subject  of 
those  difficulties  which  encompass  it,  by  this  doctrine  of 
the  oneness  of  Adam  with  his  posterity.  A  mystery 
overhangs,  and,  perhaps,  ever  must  overhang  the  nature 
and  possibility  of  this  oneness ;  but  this  mystery  being 
once  waived,  or  put  up  with  by  the  mind,  the  principal 
difficulties  that  beset  the  doctrine  of  a  sinful  nature  orig- 
inated antecedently  to  all  consciousness,  and  beginning 
to  manifest  itself  in  the  case  of  every  individual  with  the 
first  dawn  of  self-consciousness,  disappear.  Granting 
the  possibility  and  the  fact  of  the  individual's  fall  in 
Adam  and  with  Adam,  then  it  is  easy  to  see  how  this 
fall  can  be  charged  as  guilt  upon  the  individual,  and  the 
sinful  nature  be  truly  and  really  a  self-determined  and 
responsible  nature,  deserving  and  incurring  the  wrath  of 
God.  Original  sin,  by  this  hypothesis,  is  seen  to  be  the 
work  of  the  creature,  and  not  the  Creator,  the  chief  pecu- 
liarity in  this  case  being,  that  it  was  originated  by  the 

*  Edwards  on  Original  Sin.    Part  IV.  Chap.  3. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  269 

whole  race,  and  for  the  whole  race,  not  as  it  exists  in  the 
historical  series  of  its  individual  members^  hut  as  it  existed 
a  seminal  and  common  nature  in  the  first  man. 

With  regard  to  the  possibility  of  such  a  co-existence 
of  Adam  and  his  posterity,  little  can  be  said,  although 
the  more  the  mind  reflects  upon  the  subject,  the  less  sur- 
prising does  it  seem.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  the 
mysteriousness  of  the  subject  has  not  deterred  the  human 
mind  from  receiving  the  doctrine.  We  see  the  clearest 
and  deepest  minds  of  the  church,  men  of  unquestioned 
intellectual  power,  and  of  profound  insight  into  their  own 
hearts,  drawn,  as  by  a  spell,  to  this  hypothesis,  as  the 
best  theory  by  which  to  free  the  doctrine  of  original  sin 
from  its  principal  difficulties  :  and  this  fact  of  itself  con- 
stitutes a  strong  ground  for  the  belief  that  the  truth  lies 
in  this  direction. 

1.  We  would  merely  call  attention,  however,  to  the 
fact,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  oneness  and  co-existence  of 
the  race  in  the  first  man,  by  no  means  contradicts  what 
we  know  from  physiology,  but  rather  finds  a  corrobora- 
tion from  it.  When  the  first  individuals  of  a  new  species 
are  created  out  of  nothing  by  the  Creator  of  all  things, 
the  species^  as  well  as  these  individuals,  is  created.  The 
remaining  individuals  of  the  species  —  the  posterity  of 
the  first  pair  —  do  not  come  into  existence  each  by  a 
new  fiat,  like  that  which  called  the  first  into  being,  but 
by  a  propagation.  The  primordial  elements  of  all  the 
individuals  of  the  series  are  created,  when  the  first  pair 
of  the  species  is  created,  and  then  are  developed  into  a 
series  of  individuals.  Any  catastrophe,  therefore,  any 
radical  change  that  befalls  these  first  individuals,  affects 
the  whole  species,  and  in  precisely  the  same  way.  If 
that  science,  whose  business  it  is  to  investigate  the  nature 
and  mutual  relations  of  the  species  and  the  individual, 

23* 


270  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN. 

and  to  give  an  account  of  the  development  of  the  crea- 
tion of  God,  teaches  anything,  it  teaches  this. 

2.  The  other  principal  objection  —  that  the  individual 
was  never  conscious  of  this  fall  in  Adam  —  has  been 
removed  by  what  has  been  advanced  in  regard  to  the 
possibility  of  a  voluntary  action  that  is  deeper  than  con- 
sciousness. If  there  can  be,  and  actually  is,  action  of 
the  human  Will,  unaccompanied  by  self-consciousness, 
then  it  is  not  absurd  or  self-contradictory  to  affirm  that 
the  "Will  of  the  whole  species,  generically  including  the 
Will  of  every  individual  within  it,  fell  in  the  first  man. 

The  doctrine  of  original  sin,  then,  as  stated  in  the 
Westminster  Catechism  taken  in  its  strict  and  literal 
acceptation,  we  deem  to  be  in  accordance  with  the 
teaching  of  Scripture  on  this  subject.  Only  put  up  with 
the  inexplicability  of  the  oneness,  and  co-existence,  of 
Adam  and  his  posterity — only  grant  this  assumption, 
which  all  the  analogies  in  the  world  of  physical  nature, 
and  all  the  investigations  of  physiology,  yet  seem  to  cor- 
roborate —  and  we  can  hold  to  a  sinful  nature,  and  a 
sinful  nature  that  is  guilt.  We  know  of  no  other  theory 
that  does  not  in  the  end,  either  reduce  sin  to  a  minimum, 
by  recognizing  no  sin  but  that  of  single  volitions,  or  else, 
while  asserting  a  sinful  nature,  does  it  at  the  expense  of 
human  freedom  and  responsibility.  And  surely  a  theory 
which  removes  the  real  and  honest  difficulties  that  cling 
to  one  of  the  most  vexed  questions  in  theology,  ought  not 
to  be  rejected  merely  on  the  ground  of  a  mystery  that 
attaches  to  one  of  its  parts.  Manifest  absurdity  and  self- 
contradiction  would  be  the  only  valid  grounds  for  reject- 
ing it ;  and  these,  we  think,  cannot  be  fixed  upon  it. 

In  conclusion,  we  would  say,  that  we  cannot  think, 
with  some,  that  such  speculations  into  a  difficult  doctrine 
like  that  of  original  sin,  are  valueless  —  that  they  merely 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ORIGINAL    SIN.  271 

bafHe  the  inind  and  harden  the  heart.  We  rise  from  this 
investigation  with  a  more  profound  belief  than  ever,  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  innate  and  total  depravity  of  man  — 
of  his  bondage  to  evil,  and  his  guilt  in  this  bondage.  It 
is  only  when  we  tm-n  away  our  eye  from  the  particular 
exhibitions  of  sin  to  that  evil  nature  that  lies  under  them 
all,  and  lies  under  them  all  the  while  —  it  is  only  when 
we  turn  away  from  what  we  do  to  what  we  are  — that  we 
become  filled  with  that  deep  sense  of  guilt,  that  profound 
self-abasement,  before  the  infinite  purity  of  God,  and  that 
utter  self-despair,  which  alone  fit  us  to  be  the  subjects 
of  renewing  and  sanctifying  grace.  If  the  church  and 
the  ministry  of  the  present  day  need  any  one  thing  more 
than  another,  it  is  profound  views  of  sin  ;  and  if  the  cur- 
rent theology  of  the  day  is  lacking  in  any  one  thing,  it  is 
in  that  thorough-going,  that  truly  philosophic,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  truly  edifying  theory  of  sin,  w^iich  runs  like  a 
strong  muscular  cord  through  all  the  soundest  theology 
of  the  church. 


THE  ATONEMENT,  A  SATISFACTION  FOR  THE 
ETHICAL  NATURE  OF  BOTH  GOD  AND  MAN.* 


It  is  a  very  important  question  whether,  in  the  recon- 
ciliation of  man  with  God,  the  change  of  feeling  and 
relationship  that  confessedly  occurs  between  the  parties, 
is  solely  upon  the  side  of  man,  or  whether  that  method 
which  proposes  to  bring  about  peace  and  harmony  be- 
tween the  sinner  and  his  Judge,  contains  a  provision 
that  refers  immediately  to  the  being  and  ethical  nature 
of  God.  Is  the  Divine  Essence  absolutely  passive,  and 
entirely  unaffected  by  the  propitiatory  death  of  Christ, 
and  is  all  the  movement  and  affection  that  occurs  con- 
fined to  human  nature  ;  or  is  there  in  the  Godhead  itself, 
by  virtue  of  its  essential  nature  and  quality,  something 
that  requires  a  judicial  satisfaction  for  sin,  and  which, 
wlien  satisfied,  produces  the  specific  sense  of  satisfaction, 
or,  to  use  a  biblical  term,  of  "  propitiation,"  in  the  Deity 
himself?  In  short,  is  the  reconciliation  of  man  with  God 
merely  and  wholly  subjective,  an  occurrence  in  the 
human  soul  but  no  real  event  and  fact  in  the  Divine 
Mind?  Is  the  sinner  merely  reconciled  to  God,  God 
remaining  precisely  the  same  towards  him  that  He  is 
irrespective  of  the  work  of  Christ,  and  antecedent  to  his 
appropriation  of  that  work ;  or  does  God  first,  by  and 

'*  Reprinted  from  the  Bibliotheca  Sacra,  Oct.  1859. 
(272) 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  273 

through  a  judicial  infliction  of  his  own  providing,  and 
his  own  enduring  in  the  person  of  the  Son, —  Himself 
the  judge,  Himself  the  priest.  Himself  the  sacrifice, — 
conciliate  his  own  holy  justice  towards  the  guilty,  and 
thereby  lay  the  foundation  for  the  consciousness  of  recon- 
ciliation in  the  penitent?* 

The  phraseology  of  scripture  teaches,  beyond  a  doubt, 
that  the  transaction  of  reconciliation  is  not  confined  ex- 
clusively to  human  nature.  We  are  told,  for  example, 
by  the  apostle  John,  that  "Jesus  Christ  the  righteous  is 
the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  f  Propitiation  is  the  strong 
word  employed  to  denote  the  real  nature  of  Christ's 
work  by  that  mild  and  loving  apostle  whose  intuition 
of  Christianity  some  biblical  critics  would  array  against 
that  of  Paul,  and  in  whose  writings  they  profess  to  find 
only  the  doctrine  of  spiritual  life  and  sanctification,  and 
not  that  of  expiation  and  justification.  But  this  term 
certainly  implies    two    parties,  —  an  oflfending  and  an 


*  That  God,  in  the  work  of  atoneinent,  is  hoth  the  first  cause  and  last 
end,  or,  in  other  words,  at  once  the  propitiating:  and  the  offended  party,  is 
plahdy  taught  in  such  texts  as  2  Cor.  v.  18,  and  Coloss.  1.  20  :  "  God  liath 
reconciled  us  to  Himself,  ^7  Jesus  Christ.  It  pleased  God  .  .  .  hy 
Christ  to  reconcile  all  things  to  Himself,  having  made  peace  through  the 
blood  of  his  cross."  Awjnstine  notices  this  fact  in  the  following  manner: 
"  How  hast  Thou  loved  us,  for  whom  lie  that  thought  it  no  rohbciy  to  be 
equal  with  Thee,  was  made  subject  even  to  the  death  of  the  cross,  lie  alone, 
free  among  the  dead,  liaving  power  to  lay  down  His  life,  and  power  to  take 
it  again  ;  for  us,  to  Thee,  both  victor  and  victim,  and  therefore  victor  because 
the  victim  ;  for  us,  to  Thee,  loth  priest  and  sacrifice,  and  therefore  priest 
because  the  sacrifice."  —  Confessions,  X.  xliii.  69.  The  same  thought  is 
expressed  in  a  very  dense  and  comprehensive  form  by  Jolin  Wesnel,  one  of 
the  forerunners  of  the  Reformation  :  "  Ipse  deus,  ipse  sacerdos,  ipse  hostia, 
pro  se,  de  se,  sibi  satisfecit."  —  De  causis  incarnaiionis,  c.  17.  And  Pascal 
makes  a  similar  remark  in  his  fragni'-ntary  reflections  :  "  Agnus  occisus 
est  ab  origine  mundi.  The  judge  himself  is  the  sacrifice."  —  Thoughts, 
London  Ed.  hy  Pearce,  p.  235. 

t  1  John  ii.  2. 


274  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

offended  one.  "A  mediator,"  argues  Paul,  in  his  Epistle 
to  the  Galatians,  "  is  not  a  mediator  of  one  ;"  that  is,  in 
order  to  mediation,  there  must  be  two  persons  between 
whom  to  mediate.  In  like  manner,  propitiation  implies 
that  one  being  has  wakened  the  just  displeasure  of 
another  being,  and  that  the  latter  needs  to  be  placated 
by  some  valid  and  satisfactory  method.  Propitiation, 
therefore,  —  an  idea  that  weaves  the  warp  and  weaves 
the  woof  of  the  entire  scriptures,  —  if  it  has  any  solid 
signification,  looks  Godward.*  God,  and  not  man,  is 
the  party  primarily  offended  by  sin.  It  is  his  nature 
which  requires  the  propitiatory  sacrifice,  and  he  him- 
self provides  it.  "  Since,  in  his  crucifixion,'*  says  John 
Howe,  "  Christ  was  a  sacrifice,  that  is,  was  placatory  and 
reconciling,  and  since  reconciliations  are  always  mutual, 
of  both  the  contending  parties  to  one  another,  it  must 
have  the  proper  influence  of  a  sacrifice  immediately  upon 
bothj  and  as  well  mollify  men's  hearts  towards  God,  as 
procure  that  he  should  express  favorable  inclinations 
toivards  them^  f 

Another  very  pointed  scripture  text,  from  which  we 

*  This  is  veiy  apparent  Avhen  we  analyze  those  words  in  different  lan- 
guages which  bring  to  view  the  relation  of  sinful  man  to  the  Supreme  Being. 
The  primary  meaning  always  implies  that  the  Deity  is  displacent,  and  it  is 
only  the  secondary  signification  that  refers  to  the  creature.  The  word  l\6.ff- 
Kofiai,  for  example,  in  Homer,  is  always  objective  in  its  signification  when 
applied  to  the  gods.  'IxdcrKca^ai  ^^ov  primarily  means  to  appease  God,  to 
produce  a  favorable  feeling  or  affection  in  God,  and  then  in  a  secondary 
sense  to  reconcile  oneself  to  him,  to  attain  a  peaceful  feeling  subjectively. 
The  Saxon  bot  (whence  the  modern  boot)  signifies  a  compensation  paid  to 
an  injured  party,  a  redressing,  recompense,  amends,  satisfaction,  offering ; 
then  a  remedy  or- cure,  effected  by  such  compensation  ;  and  lastly,  a  repent- 
ance, renewing,  restoring,  wrought  out  by  means  of  boot  or  satisfliction  given. 
In  this  way  repentance  is  inseparable  from  atonement ;  and  its  genuineness 
is  evinced  by  the  cordiality  with  which  judicial  satisfaction  is  rendered,  if  i"t 
can  be,  or  appropriated  as  rendered  by  a  substitute,  in  case  it  cannot  be. 

t  Living  Temple,  Pt.  II.  c.  5.  (Vol.  L  p,  81.  New  York  Ed.). 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.         275 

cannot  deduce  anything  but  the  doctrine  of  a  real  satis- 
faction of  the  Divine  Nature  by  the  work  of  Christ,  is 
the  declaration  of  Paul,  that  "  if  while  we  were  yet  [im- 
penitent] sinners  Christ  died  for  us,  much  more,  then, 
being  now  justified  by  his  blood  we  shall  be  saved  from 
wrath  through  him."*  Whose  wrath  is  this,  from  which, 
the  apostle  teaches,  we  are  saved  by  the  propitiatory 
death  of  Christ  ?  Is  it  the  wrath  of  man,  and  not  the 
wrath  of  God?  Most  certainly  it  is  not  from  that  selfish 
and  wicked  passion  in  the  human  heart,  which  we  most 
commonly  associate  with  the  term  anger,  that  we  are 
delivered  by  the  blood  of  redemption.  But  may  it  not 
be  our  own  moral  indignation  merely,  and  not  that  of 
our  Creator  and  Judge,  to  which  the  apostle  refers  ? 
May  not  the  appeasing  effect  of  Christ's  blood  of  expia- 
tion be  confined  to  the  human  conscience  solely,  and 
there  be  no  actual  pacification  of  any  attribute  or  feeling 
in  the  Deity  ?  But  this  is  only  a  part  of  the  truth.  We 
do,  indeed,  need  to  be  saved  from  the  terrible  wrath  and 
remorse  of  our  own  consciences,  as  they  bite  back 
(remordere)  upon  us  after  the  commission  of  sin,  —  and 
of  this  we  shall  speak  in  its  place,  —  but  we  need  pri- 
marily to  be  saved  from  the  judicial  displeasure  of  that 
immaculate  Spirit,  in  whose  character  and  ethical 
feeling  towards  sin  the  human  conscience  itself  has  its 
eternal  ground  and  authority,  and  of  which  it  is  the 
most  sensitive  index  and  measure. 

The  natural  teaching,  then,  of  these  and  similar  pas- 
sages of  scripture  is,  that  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  the 
God-man  renders,  ^^ propitious^'  towards  the  trans- 
gressor, that  particular  side  of  the  Divine  Nature,  and 
that  one  specific  emotion  of  the  living  God,  which  other- 

*  Romans,  v.  8,  9. 


276  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

wise  and  without  it  is  displacent  and  unappeased. 
Tiiis  atonement  is  a  satisfaction  for  the  ethical  nature 
of  God  as  well  as  man.  This  propitiation  sustains  an 
immediate  relation  to  an  attribute  and  quality  in  the 
Divine  Essence,  and  exerts  a  specific  influence  upon  it. 
By  it  God's  holy  justice  and  moral  anger  against  sin 
are  conciliated  to  guilty  man,  that  man's  remorseful 
conscience  may,  as  a  consequence  of  this  pacification 
in  the  Divine  Essence,  experience  the  peace  that  passeth 
all  understanding.  It  will  therefore  be  the  purpose  of 
this  Essay  to  evince  that  the  piacular  work  of  the  in- 
carnate Deity  sustains  relations  to  both  the  nature  of 
God  and  the  nature  of  man  ;  and  more  particularly  to 
show  that  the  pacification  of  the  human  conscience 
itself  is  possible  only  in  case  there  has  been  an  antece- 
dent propitiation  and  satisfaction  of  that  side  of  the 
Divine  Nature  which  is  the  deep  and  eternal  ground  of 
conscience. 

Before  commencing  the  discussion,  we  would  in  the 
very  outset  guard  against  a  misconception,  which 
almost  uniformly  arises  in  a  certain  class  of  minds,  and 
which  is  not  only  incompatible  with  any  just  under- 
standing of  the  doctrine  of  atonement,  but  prevents 
even  a  dispassionate  and  candid  attention  to  it.  When 
it  is  asserted  that  "God  requires  to  be  propitiated,"  and 
that  "  his  wrath  needs  to  be  averted  by  a  judicial  inflic- 
tion upon  the  sinner's  substitute,"  the  image  imme- 
diately arises  before  such  minds  of  an  enraged  and 
ugly  demon,  whose  wrath  is  wrongs  and  who  must  be 
pacified  by  some  other  being  than  himself.  Such  minds 
labor  under  a  twofold  error,  of  which  they  ought  to  be 
disabused.  Their  first  fatal  misconception  is,  that  the 
Divine  anger  is  selfish  and  vindictive,  instead  of  just 
and  vindicative  of  law.     And  their  second  consists  in 


THE    DOCTRINE    OE    ATONE.MEXT.  277 

their  assumption  that  the  placation  issues  from  some 
other  s(^urce  than  the  ofTended  One  himself.  Assuming, 
as  they  do,  that  anger  in  God  is  illegitimate,  the  attribu- 
tion of  this  emotion  to  him,  of  course  undeifies  him. 
And  assuming,  still  further,  that  wrath  against  the  sin- 
ner's sin  cannot  exist  at  the  same  instant  with  com- 
passion towards  the  sinner's  soid^  they  find  no  pity  in 
the  Deity  as  thus  defined.  His  sole  emotion  must  be 
that  of  wrath,  because,  as  they  imagine,  He  can  have 
but  one  feeling  at  a  time,  and  therefore  the  creature  who 
has  incurred  God's  displeasure  must  look  elsewhere 
than  to  God  for  the  source  of  hope  and  peace. 

Now  this  whole  view  overlooks  the  complex  nature, 
the  infinite  plenitude,  of  the  Godhead.  For  at  the  very 
instant  when  the  immaculate  holiness  of  God  is  burn- 
ing with  intensity,  and  reacting  by  an  organic  recoil 
against  sin,*  the  infinite  pity  of  God  is  yearning  with  a 
fathomless  desire  to  save  the  transgressor  from  the  effects 
of  this  very  displeasure.  The  emotion  of  anger  against 
sin  is  constitutional  to  the  Deity,  and  is  irrepressible  at 
the  sight  of  sin.  But  this  is  entirely  compatible  with 
the  existence  and  exercise  of  another  and  opposite  feel- 
ing, at  the  very  same  moment,  in  reference,  not  indeed 
to  the  sin,  but  to  the  soul  of  the  sinner.f     Mercy  and 


*  The  inspired  words  that  express  the  emotion  of  displacency  m  the 
Divine  Being  are  startling  from  their  energy  and  vividness.  The  primary 
sensuous  meaning,  or  the  visual  image  called  up  by  them,  illustrates  this. 
The  verb  cyr,  employed  in  Ps.  vii.  11,  signifies  to  foam  at  the  mouth  ;  the 
verb  qiij^  means  to  caU  up,  or  break  up,  iuto  pieces ;  the  verb  ~2S  signifies  to 
breathe  hard  throurjh  the  distended  nostrils  ;  etc.  Does  not  the  application  of 
such  Avoi-ds  as  these  to  the  emotions  of  the  Deity  imply  an  inspiration  that 
includes  ])hrascology  as  well  as  ideas  ?  Would  an  uninspired  writer  ven- 
ture uj)on  such  diction  in  such  a  connection  ? 

t  The  two  emotions  of  which  we  are  speaking,  are  clearly  discriminated 
from  each  other  bv  the  fact  that  one  of  them  is  constitutional,  and  the  other 

24 


278  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT. 

truth  meet  together^  righteousness  and  peace  kiss  each 
other,  in  the  Divine  Essence ;  and  it  is  a  mutilated  and 
meagre  conception  of  the  Godhead  that  can  grasp  but 
one  of  these  opposites  at  once.  Even  within  the  nar- 
row and  imperfect  sphere  of  human  life  there  may  be, 
and  were  man  holier,  there  often  would  be,  the  most 
holy  and  unselfish  indignation  at  wrong  doing,  united 
with  the  utmost  readiness  to  suffer  and  die  if  need  be 
for  the  eternal  welfare  of  the  wrong  doer. 

Such  being  the  actual  relation  of  indignation  to  com- 

voluntary.  The  Divine  wrath  {hpy)]  0eo?,  Rom.  i.  18),  issues  from  the 
necessary  antagonism  between  the  pm-e  essence  of  the  Godhead,  and  moral 
evil.  It  is,  therefore,  natural,  organic,  necessary,  and  eternal.  The  logical 
idea  of  the  Holy  implies  it.  But  the  love  of  benevolence,  or  the  Divine 
compassion,  issues  from  the  voluntary  disposition  of  God,  —  from  his  heart 
and  affections.  It  is  good-ivill.  It  is,  consequently,  easy  to  see  that  the 
existence  of  the  constitutional  emotion  is  perfectly  compatible  with  that  of 
the  voluntary,  in  one  and  the  same  being,  and  at  one  and  the  same  moment ; 
and,  in  God,  from  all  eternity,  since  he  is  unchangeable.  Says  Augustine 
(Tractatus  in  Joannem,  110) :  "It  is  Avritten,  'God  commendeth  his  love 
towards  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us  '  (Rom.  v. 
8).  He  loved  us,  therefore,  even  when,  in  the  exercise  of  enmity  against 
him,  we  were  working  iniquity.  And  yet  it  is  said  with  perfect  truth  :  '  Thou 
hatest,  0  Lord,  all  workers  of  iniquity'  (Ps.  v.  5).  Wherefore,  in  a  won- 
derful and  divine  manner,  he  both  hated  and  loved  us  at  the  same  time.  He 
hated  us,  as  being  different  from  what  he  had  made  us  ;  but  as  our  iniquity 
had  not  entirely  destroyed  his  work  in  us,  he  could  at  the  same  time,  in 
every  one  of  us,  hate  what  we  had  done  and  love  what  he  had  created  In 
every  instance  it  is  truly  said  of  God  ;  '  Thou  hatest  nothing  which  thou 
hast  made ;  for  never  wouldest  thou  have  made  anything,  if  thou  hadst 
hated  it '  (Wisdom  xi.  24)."  Calvin,  after  quoting  the  above  from  Augus- 
tine, remarks  (Institutes  II.  xvi.  3)  :  "  God,  Avho  is  the  perfection  of  riu^ht- 
eousness,  cannot  love  iniquity,  which  he  beholds  in  us  all.  We  all,  there- 
fore, have  in  us  that  which  deserves  God's  hatred.  Wherefore,  in  respect 
to  our  corrupt  nature,  and  the  succeeding  depravity  of  our  lives,  we  are  all 
really  offensive  to  God,  guilty  in  his  sight,  and  born  to  the  damnation  of  hell. 
But  because  the  Lord  will  not  lose  in  us  that  which  is  his  own,  he  yet  dis- 
covers something  that  his  goodness  may  love.  For  notwithstanding  we  are 
sinners  through  our  own  fault,  yet  we  are  still  liis  creatures ;  notwithstand- 
ing we  have  brought  death  upon  ourselves,  yet  he  had  created  us  for  life." 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.  279 

passion  in  llio  Divine  Essence,  it  is  plain  that  it  is  God 
himself  that  propitiates  himself  to  the  transgressor.  In 
the  incarnate  person  of  the  Son,  God  voluntarily  en- 
dures the  weight  of  his  own  judicial  displeasure,  in 
order  that  the  real  criminal  may  be  spared.  The  Divine 
compassion  itself  bears  the  in  dictions  of  the  Divine  in- 
dignation, in  the  place  of  the  transgressor.*  That  ethi- 
cal emotion  in  the  being  of  God,  which  from  the  nature 
and  necessity  of  the  case  is  incensed  against  sin,  God 
himself  placates  by  a  personal  self-sacrifice  that  inures 
to  the  benefit  of  the  creature.  The  "  propitiation " 
spoken  of  by  the  apostle  John  is,  therefore,  no  oblation 
ah  extra,  no  device  of  a  third  party,  or  even  of  man 
himself,  to  render  God  placable  towards  man.  It  is 
wholly  ab  intra,  a  5e//'-oblation  upon  the  part  of  Deity 
itself,  by  which  to  satisfy  those  immanent  and  eternal 
imperatives  of  the  Divine  Nature  which  without  it  must 
find  their  satisfaction  in  the  punishment  of  the  trans- 
gressor, or  else  be  outraged.  Neither  does  the  purpose 
to  employ  this  method  of  salvation,  to  provide  this  sat- 
isfaction of  ethical  and  judicial  claims,  originate  outside 
of  the  Divine  Nature.  God  is  inherently  willing  to 
forgive;  and  there  is  no  proof  of  this  so  strong  as  the 
fact,  that  he  does  not  shrink  from  this  amazing  self- 
sacrifice  which  forgiveness  necessitates.  The  desire  to 
save  his  transgressing  and  guilty  creature  wells  up  and 
overflows  from  the  depths  of   his  own  compassionate 

*  In  all  these  statements  we  would  be  understood  as  makin;::^  them  in 
harmony  with,  and  subject  to,  all  the  limitations  of  the  catholic  doctrine 
of  the  two  natures  in  the  one  Person  of  Christ.  The  Divine  Nature,  in 
itself,  is  impassible ;  but  we  have  scriptural  warrant  in  Acts  xx.  28,  for  say- 
inj?  that  God  incarnate,  or  the  God-Man,  is  passible,  and  suffers  and  dies. 
Hence,  while  there  can  be  no  transfer  of  predicates  from  one  nature  to  the 
otb.cr,  the  jiredicates  of  both  natures  alike  belong  to  the  Person,  and  that 
Person  is  God  as  well  as  man. 


280  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

heart,  and  needs  no  soliciting  or  prompting  from  with- 
out. Side  by  side  in  the  Godhead,  then,  there  dwell 
the  impulse  to  punish  and  the  desire  to  pardon  ;  but  the 
desire  to  pardon  is  realized  in  act,  by  carrfjing-  out  the 
impulse  to  punish,  not  indeed  upon  the  person  of  the 
criminal,  but  upon  that  of  his  substitute.  And  the  sub- 
stitate  is  the  Panisher  Himself!  Side  by  side  in  the 
Godhead  there  reside  the  emotion  of  moral  wrath  and 
the  feeling  of  pity  ;  but  the  feeling  of  pity  is  manifested, 
not  by  denying,  but  by  asserting,  the  entire  legitimacy 
of  the  emotion  of  moral  wrath,  and  "propitiating"  its 
holy  intensity  by  a  sutficient  oblation.  And  that  obla- 
tion is  incarnate  Deity  Itself  I 

Viewed  from  this  central  point,  and  under  this  focal 
light,  how^  impossible  it  is  not  to  recognize  both  love  and 
wrath  in  the  Godhead,*  and  how  impossible  it  is  to 
conceive  of  a  schism  in  the  Divine  Being,  and  separate 
his  justice  from  his  mercy.  It  is  a  real  "propitiation" 
of  the  Divine  anger  against  sin  that  is  effected,  but  it 
is  a  propitiation  that  is  effected  by  the  Deity  himself, 
out  of  his  own  self-sacrificing  and  principled  com- 
passion. 

Turning  now  to  the  discussion  of  the  theme  pro- 
posed, the  first  step  requires  us  to  consider  the  relation 
which  the  ethical  nature  of  man  sustains  to  the  ethical 
nature  of  God.  For  if  both  alike  are  to  be  satisfied  by 
one  and  the  same  atoning  work  of  one  and  the  same 

*  The  inspired  assertion  that  "  God  is  a  consuming  fire"  (Heb.  xi.  29), 
is  just  as  categorical  and  unqualified  as  the  inspired  assertion  that  "  God  is 
love "  (1  John  iv.  8),  or  the  inspired  assertion  that  "  God  is  light"  (1  John 
i.  5).  Hence  it  is  as  inaccurate  to  resolve  all  the  Divine  emotions  into 
love,  as  it  would  be  to  resolve  them  all  into  wrath.  The  truth  is,  that  it  is 
the  Divine  Essence  alone,  and  not  any  one  particular  attribute,  that  can  be 
logically  regarded  as  the  unity  in  which  all  the  characteristic  qualities  of 
the  Deity  centre  and  inhere. 


THE  DOCTRINK  OF  ATONEMENT.         281 

Person,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  plain  that  there 
must  be  some  common  kindredness  and  sympathy 
between  them.  What  then  is  the  actual  relation  that 
exists  between  conscience  in  man  and  the  attribute  of 
justice  in  God?  Do  they  give  differing  judgments  with 
respect  to  the  demerit  of  sin,  and  do  they  require  differ- 
ent methods  of  satisfaction  for  it?  Is  the  human  con- 
science clamorous  for  an  atonement,  while  the  Divine 
Nature  is  wholly  indifferent  ?  Or,  does  the  judicial  sen- 
timent in  the  Deity  demand  the  infliction  of  penalty 
upon  crime,  while  that  of  man  is  opposed  to  such  an 
infliction  ?  Is  there,  or  is  there  not,  an  entire  and  per- 
fect agreement  between  the  finite  faculty  and  the  infi- 
nite attribute,  upon  these  points,  so  that  in  reference  to 
sin  and  guilt,  what  God  requires,  man's  moral  nature 
also  insists  upon,  and  what  an  awakened  conscience 
craves,  eternal  Justice  also  demands  ? 

The  moral  reason,  as  containing  for  its  substance  and 
inlay  the  moral  law  of  God,  and  the  conscience  as  the 
faculty  that  testifies  with  respect  to  the  harmony  or  the 
hostility  of  the  will  with  this  law,  —  this  side  of  human 
nature  is  a  part  of  that  "  image  and  likeness  of  God," 
after  which  man  was  originally  created.  These  faculties 
have  to  do  with  what  is  religious,  ethical,  eternal ;  and, 
notwithstanding  the  apostasy  and  corruption  of  man's 
heart  and  will,  they  still  constitute  a  point  of  connection 
and  communication  between  the  being  of  man  and  the 
being  of  God.  The  moral  reason  and  conscience  are 
the  intellectual  media  whereby,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
man  and  his  Maker  are  put  en  rapport.  When  the 
Eternal  Judge  addresses  the  creature  upon  the  subject 
of  religion,  upon  the  duties  which  he  owes,  and  the 
liabilities  under  which  he  stands,  he  speaks  first  of  all, 
not  to  his  imagination,  or  his  taste,  or  his  hostile  heart, 

24* 


282  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

or  his  perverse  will,  but  to  his  moral  sense  and  senti- 
ment. When  God  begins  the  work  of  conviction,  and 
in  order  to  this  throws  in  an  influence  from  his  own 
holy  and  immaculate  Essence,  He  first  shoots  a  pang 
through  this  part  of  man's  complex  being.  This,  like 
Darien,  is  the  isthmus  of  volcanic  fire  that  both  divides 
and  joins  the  oceans. 

Here,  then,  if  anywhere  in  the  being  of  man,  we  are 
to  look  for  views  of  the  Deity  that  correspond  to  his 
real  nature  and  character.  And  here,  in  particular,  w^e 
are  to  find  the  true  index  of  his  judicial  emotions  to- 
wards sin,  and  the  clue  to  what  his  ethical  nature  and 
feeling  demands  in  order  to  its  remission.  We  must 
not  ask  the  sinful  heart,  or  the  taste,  or  the  mere  under- 
standing, what  God  thinks  of  sin,  and  what  is  his  feel- 
ing respecting  it.  Upon  these  points  we  must  take 
counsel  of  the  conscience.  For  the  God  of  the  selfish 
heart  is  the  deity  of  sentimentalism  ;  the  God  of  the 
imagination  and  the  taste  is  the  beautiful  Grecian 
Apollo  ;  the  God  of  the  understanding  merely  is  the 
cold  and  unemotional  abstraction  of  the  deist  and  the 
pantheist;  but  the  God  of  the  conscience  is  the  living 
and  holy  God  of  Israel,  —  the  God  of  punishments  and 
atonements.  This  ethical  part  of  man's  being,  then, 
has  a  closer  affinity  than  any  other  part  with  the  Divine 
Essence,  and  consequently  its  phenomena,  its  pangs 
and  its  pacification,  have  a  more  intimate  connection 
than  those  of  any  other  of  his  powers,  with  the  pro- 
cesses of  the  Eternal  Mind.  This  is  the  finite  contact- 
ing point  in  man  that  corresponds  with  the  infinite  sur- 
face in  God.  The  moral  reason  and  conscience,  thus 
having  their  counterpart  and  antithesis  in  the  Deity, 
must,  therefore,  be  regarded  as  indexes  of  him,  and  partic- 
ularly of  what  goes  on  in  his  being  in  relation  to  human 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  283 

sin  and  gnilt.  The  calm  condemnation  of  man's  ethi- 
cal nature,  and  the  unselfish  organic  remorse  of  his  con- 
science, which  are  consequent  upon  his  transgression 
of  law,  are  eflluences  from  that  Being  whose  eyes  "  de- 
vour all  iniquity."  The  righteous  indignation  into 
which  the  judicial  part  of  the  human  soul  is  stirred  by 
sin,  is  the  finite  but  homogeneous  expression  of  that  anger 
against  moral  evil  which  burns  with  an  eternal  intensity 
in  the  purity  of  the  Divine  Essence. 

Hence  it  follows  that  a  careful  examination  of  what 
we  find  in  the  workings  of  this  part  of  the  human  con- 
stitution, instead  of  deterring,  will  compel  us  to  trans- 
fer in  the  same  species  to  God,  what  exists  in  man  in 
only  a  finite  degree.  In  other  words,  the  emotion  of  the 
human  conscience  towards  sin  will  be  found  to  be  the 
same  in  kind  with  the  emotion  of  God  towards  sin. 
The  analysis  must,  indeed,  be  very  careful.  We  must 
eliminate  from  the  indignation  of  the  moral  sense  all 
elements  of  selfish  passion  that  have  become  mixed 
with  it,  owing  to  that  corruption  of  human  nature  which 
prevents  even  as  serious  a  power  as  conscience  from 
working  with  a  perfectly  normal  action.*  We  must 
clarify  remorse  until  the  residuum  left  is  pure  spiritual 
wrath  against  pure  wickedness.  We  must  do  our 
utmost,  under  the  illumination  of  divine  truth  and  the 
actuation  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  have  conscience  do  its 

*  Trench  remarks  upon  Eph.  iv.  26,  that  "  St.  Paul  is  not,  as  so  many 
understand  liim,  condescending  to  human  infirmity,  and  saying  :  '  Your 
anger  shall  not  be  imputed  to  you  as  a  sin,  if  you  put  it  away  before  night- 
fall ; '  but  rather,  '  Be  ye  angry,  yet  in  this  anger  of  yours  suffer  no  sinful 
element  to  mingle  ; '  there  is  that  which  may  cleave  even  to  a  righteous 
anger,  the  irapopytauos,  the  irritation,  the  exasperation,  which  must  be  dis- 
missed at  once ;  that  so,  being  defecated  of  this  imijurcr  element  which 
mingled  with  it,  that  only  which  ought  to  remain,  may  remain."  —  Si/no- 
vi/ines  ofN.  T ,  §37. 


284  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT. 

• 

perfect,  unmixed  work  ;  and  then  we  need  not  shrink 
from  asserting,  that  this  righteous  displacency  of  the 
moral  sense,  against  the  voluntary  wickedness,  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  emotion  in  specie  with  the  wrath  of  God.* 
It  will  aid  us  if  at  this  point  we  direct  attention  to 
the  distinction  between  the  human  conscience  and  the 
human  heart;. and  particularly  to  the  difference  between 
emotion  in  conscience  and  emotion  in  the  heart.^  The 
feelings  and  passions  of  the  corrupt  human  heart  we 
cannot,  in  any  form,  attribute  to  God.  Envy,  pride, 
malice,  shame,  selfish  love,  and  selfish  hatred,  cannot 
possibly  exist  in  that  pure  and  blessed  Nature.  Hence 
it  is  that  we  are  so  apt  to  shrink  from  those  portions 
of  scripture  which  clothe  the  Deity  with  indignant  and 

*  Hence  the  Divine  injunction  in  Ps.  xcvii.  18  :  "  Ye  that  love  the  Lord, 
hate  evil ; "  and  in  Rom.  xii.  9  :  "  Abhor  that  which  is  evil."  This  pure 
and  spiritual  displacency  towards  moral  evil,  unmixed  with  any  elements 
of  sinful  and  human  passion,  is  one  of  the  last  accomplishments  of  the 
Christian  life.  Hear  the  following  low  and  sad  refrain  from  the  spirit  of 
the  intensely  earnest  and  ethical  Master  of  Rugby,  as  he  muses  under  the 
dark  chestnut-trees,  and  beside  the  limpid  waters,  and  beneath  the  cerulean 
sky  of  Lake  Como  :  "  It  is  almost  awful  to  look  at  the  overwhelming 
beauty  around  me,  and  then  think  of  moral  evil ;  it  seems  as  if  heaven  and 
hell,  instead  of  being  separated  by  a  great  gulf  from  one  another,  were 
absolutely  on  each  other's  confines,  and  indeed  not  far  from  every  one  of 
us.  Might  the  sense  of  moral  evil  be  as  strong  in  me  as  my  delight  in  ex- 
ternal beauty  ;  for  in  a  deep  sense  of  moral  evil,  more  perhaps  than  in  anything 
else,  abides  a  saving  hioioledge  of  God  !  It  is  not  so  much  to  admire  moral 
good  ;  that  we  may  do,  and  yet  not  be  ourselves  conformed  to  it ;  but  if  we 
really  do  abhor  that  which  is  evil,  not  the  persons  in  whom  evil  resides,  but 
the  evil  that  dwelleth  in  them,  and  much  more  manifestly  and  certainly  to 
our  own  knowledge,  in  our  own  hearts,  —  this  is  to  have  the  feeling  of  God 
and  of  Christ,  and  to  have  our  spirit  in  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of  God. 
Alas  !  how  easy  to  see  tliis  and  say  it,  —  how  hard  to  do  it  and  to  feel  it ! " 
—  Arnold's  Life  and  Correspondence.  Appendix  D. 

t  For  some  further  explanation,  and  illustration,  of  the  important  dis- 
tinction between  the  mental  and  the  moral,  the  constitutional  and  the  volun- 
tary, etc.,  the  writer  would  refer  to  his  Lectures  upon  the  Philosophy  of  His- 
tory, pp.  6.5—69. 


THE    DOCTRINE     OF    ATOXE.MEN'T.  285 

condemnatory  feelings,  because  tliis  class  of  emotions 
are  those  in  and  by  which  the  depravity  of  the  human 
heart  is  most  wont  to  display  itself.  But  the  emotion 
of  which  we  are  speaking  is  not  a  passion  of  the  human 
heart.  The  heart  of  man  loves  sin  ;  but  we  are  describ- 
ing remorse^  which  is  the  wrath  of  the  conscience 
ai^ai)ist  sin.  We  are  delineating  the  operations  and 
processes  of  a  very  different  part  of  the  human  consti- 
tution from  that  which  is  the  source  and  seat  of  earthly 
passions  and  sinful  emotions.  We  have  passed  beyond 
the  hot  and  passionate  heart  of  man  to  the  cool  and 
i^Went  judicial  centre  of  his  being;  and  here  we  find 
feelings  and  processes  of  an  altogether  different  and 
higher  order.  Indignation  in  conscience  is  a  totally  dif- 
ferent emotion  from  indignation  in  the  heart.  A  man's 
moral  displeasure  at  his  own  sin  is  an  entirely  different 
mental  exercise  from  his  selfish  displeasure  towards  his 
neighbor.  The  former  is  an  ethical  and  impartial  emo- 
tion, totally  independent  of  the  will  and  afiections,  and 
called  out  involuntarily  from  the  conscience  by  the  mere 
sheer  contact  between  it  and  the  heart's  iniquity.  Hence 
a  man  never  condemns  himself  for  the  existence  of  such 
a  species  of  displeasure  within  his  breast.  He  may  be 
angry  in  this  style  and  sin  not.*  The  sun  may  go  down 
upon  this  kind  of  wrath.  And  yet  it  is  not  a  virtue  for 
which  he  can  take  credit  to  himself;  for  it  is  no  product 
of  his.  It  is  not  an  emotion  of  his  heart  or  his  will, 
but  is  simply  an  involuntary  and  irrepressible  efflux 
from  his  rational  nature.  He  may  only  give  glory  to 
his  Creator  for  it,  as  the  only  relic  left  him,  in  his  total 

*  "  I  further  reiul :  '  Be  angry  and  sin  not.'  And  how  was  I  moved.  O 
my  God,  who  liad  now  learned  to  he  angry  at  myself,  for  things  past,  that 
I  might  not  sin  in  time  to  come  !  Yea  to  be  justlij  angry."  —  Augustine's 
Confessions,  IX.  iv.  10. 


286  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

alienatioQ  of  heart  and  will  from  C4od,  of  his  primitive 
and  constitutional  kindredness  with  the  First  Perfect 
and  the  First  Fair. 

Again,  this  judicial  emotion,  this  conscientious  wrath 
of  which  we  are  speaking,  differs  from  the  selfish  and 
]:)artial  emotions  of  the  human  heart,  in  that  it  is  not 
intrinsically  an  unhappy  feeling.  It  does  not,  like  the 
latter,  of  necessity  render  the  being  in  whom  it  exists 
miserable.  Envy,  hatred,  malice,  shame,  pride,  are  each 
and  all  of  them  unhappy  exercises  in  themselves,  as 
well  as  in  their  consequences.  They  cannot  exist  in 
any  being  without  nwntal  suffering.  Bat  it  is  not 
so  with  the  moral  displeasure  of  the  moral  sense. 
Whether  this  just  and  legitimate  emotion  be  a  tor- 
ment or  not,  depends  altogether  upon  the  state  of 
the  heart  and  will,  upon  the  moral  character.  It  is 
indeed  true  that  it  causes  unhappiness  in  a  sinful  being, 
because  in  this  instance  the  emotions  of  the  heart 
are  in  antagonism  with  the  emotion  of  conscience; 
because  the  executive  faculty  is  not  in  harmony 
with  the  judicial  faculty.  But  where  there  is  no  per- 
sonal sin,  both  the  wrath  of  conscience  and  the  wrath 
of  God  are  as  innocuous  as  fire  upon  asbestos.  Hence 
this  very  same  emotion  of  moral  indignation  and  abhor- 
rence exists  in  an  intense  degree  in  the  angels  and  the 
seraphim,  but  is  productive  of  no  disquietude  in  them, 
because  there  is  nothing  evil  in  their  oivn  character 
u\)0'c\  which  it  can  wreak  its  force.  There  is  a  perfect 
harmony  within  them,  between  the  emotions  of  the 
heart  and  the  judicial  emotion,  between  the  character 
and  the  conscience.  And,  in  like  manner,  this  same 
feeling  of  ethical  displeasure  exists  in  an  infinite  degree 
in  the  being  of  God,  without  disturbing,  in  the  least, 
the  ineffable  peace  and  blessedness  of  that  pure  nature 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.  2S7 

which  is  the  paradise  and  clysium  of  all  who  are  con- 
formed to  it.  For  this  jndiciai  sentiment  is  a  lei^itimcUc 
one,  and  nothing  that  is  legitimate  can  be  intrinsically 
miserable.  And  therefore  it  is  that  the  saints  and  the 
seraphim,  as  they  look  down  from  the  crystal  battle- 
ments with  holy  abhorrence  and  indignation  upon  the 
sorceries  and  marders  and  uncleanness  of  the  fallen 
Babylon,  are  not  distressed  by  their  emotion,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  rt^joice  with  a  holy  joy  at  the  final  triumph  of 
justice  in  the  universe  of  God,  and  say.  Alleluia,  as  the 
smoke  of  that  just  torment  rises  up  for  ever  and  ever.* 
And  therefore  it  is  that  God  himself  carries  eternally,  in 
his  own  blessed  nature,  a  righteous  indignation  against 
moral  evil,  that  is  no  source  of  disquietude  to  him, 
because  there  is  no  moral  evil  in  him.  nor  to  the  ansfels 
and  saints  and  seraphim,  because  there  is  none  in  them  ; 
but  only  to  those  rebellious  and  wicked  spirits  into 
w^hom  it  does  fall  like  lightning  from  the  sky. 

For  if  the  emotion  of  moral  indignation  were  intrin- 
sically one  of  unhappiness,  then  the  existence  of  evil 
would  be  the  destruction  of  the  Divine  blessedness ; 
because  God  "  cannot  look  upon  evil  with  allowance,"! 


=*  "  And  after  these  things,  I  heard  a  great  voice  of  much  people  in 
heaven,  sa3'ing.  Alleluia :  Salvation,  and  glory,  and  honor,  and  power  unto 
the  Lord  our  God  :  for  true  and  righteous  are  his  judgments,  for  he  hath 
judged  the  great  whore  which  did  corrupt  the  earth  with  her  fornication, 
and  hath  avenged  the  blood  of  his  servants  at  her  hand.  And  again  they 
said,  Alleluia  :  and  her  smoke  rose  up  forever  and  ever.  And  the  four  and 
twenty  elders,  and  the  four  beasts  fell  down,  and  worshipped  God  that  sat 
on  the  throne,  saying.  Amen,  Alleluia."  —  Rev.  xix.  1 — i. 

t  "  Thou  art  not  a  God  that  hath  pleasure  in  wickedness.  Thou  hatest 
all  workers  of  iniquity  "  (Ps.  v.  5,  6).  "  God  is  angry  with  the  wicked 
every  day  "  (Ps.  vii.  11 ).  "  Who  may  stand  in  thy  sight  when  once  thou 
art  angry"  (Ps.  Ixxvi.  7).  "Who  knoweth  the  poAver  of  thine  anger? 
Even  according  to  thy  fear  so  is  thy  wrath"  (Ps.  xc.  11).  "He  that 
believeth  not  the  Son,  shall  not  see  life  ;  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on 
him"  (John  iii.  36). 


288  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

and  yet  he  is  constantly  looking  upon  it.  But  it  is  not 
so.  On  the  contrary,  the  Deity  is  blessed  in  his  dis- 
placency  at  that  which  is  vile  and  hateful.  For  pleasure 
is  the  coincidence  between  a  feeling  and  its  correlated 
object.  It  implies  intrinsic  congruity  and  fitness.  It 
would  therefore  be  unhappiness  in  any  being  to  hate 
what  is  lovely,  or  to  love  what  is  hateful ;  to  be  pleased 
with  what  is  wrong,  and  displeased  with  what  is  right ; 
because  the  proper  coincidence  between  the  emotion 
and  the  object  would  not  obtain.  But  when  God,  or 
any  being,  hates  what  is  hateful,  and  is  angry  at  that 
whinh  merits  wrath,  the  true  nature  and  fitness  of  things 
is  observed,  and  that  inward  harmony  which  is  the  sub- 
stance of  mental  happiness  is  maintained.  Anger  and 
hatred  are  almost  indissolubly  connected  in  our  minds 
with  mental  wretchedness,  because  we  behold  their  ex- 
ercise only  in  an  abnormal  and  sinful  sphere.  In  an 
apostate  world,  as  such,  there  is  no  proper  and  fitting 
coincidence  between  emotions  and  their  objects.  A 
sinner  hates  holiness,  which  he  ought  to  love  ;  and  loves 
sin,  which  he  ought  to  hate.  The  anger  of  his  heart  is 
not  legitimate,  but  passionate  and  selfish.  The  love  of 
his  heart  is  illicit ;  and  therefore,  as  it  is  styled  in  the 
scripture,  is  mere  lust  or  evil  concupiscence  (im^vfjuia). 
In  a  sinful  world,  as  such,  all  the  true  relations  and  cor- 
relations are  reversed.  Love  and  hatred  are  expended 
upon  exactly  the  wrong  objects.  But  when  these  emo- 
tions are  contemplated  within  the  sphere  of  the  Holy 
and  the  Eternal ;  when  they  are  beheld  in  God,  exer- 
cised only  upon  their  appropriate  and  deserving  objects; 
when  the  wrath  falls  only  upon  the  sin  and  uncleanness 
of  hell,  and  burns  up  nothing  but  filth  in  its  pure  celestial 
flame;  the  emotion  is  not  merely  legitimate,  but  beau- 
tiful with  an  august  beauty,  and  is  no  source  of  pain 


THR  DOCTRIXK  OF  ATONRMENT.  289 

either  to  the  Divine  Mind  or  to  any  minds  in  sympathy 
with  it.  It  is  only  upon  this  principle  that  we  can 
explain  the  blessedness  of  the  Deity,  in  connection  with 
his  omniscience  and  omnipresence.  We  know  that  sin 
and  the  punishment  of  sin  are  ever  before  him.  The 
smoke  of  torment  is  perpetually  rolling  up  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Omnipresent.  And  yet  he  is  supremely 
blessed.  But  he  can  be  so  only  because  there  is  a  just 
and  proper  correlationship  between  his  wrath  and  the 
oI)ject  upon  which  it  falls  ;  only  because  he  condemns 
that  which  is  intrinsically  damnable.*  The  least  dis- 
turbance of  this  coincidence,  the  slightest  love  for  the 
hateful,  or  hatred  for  the  lovely,  would  indeed  render 
God  a  wretched  being.  But  the  perfect  harmony  of  it 
makes  him  "  God  over  «//,"  hell  as  well  as  heaven, 
"blessed  forever." f  Were  this  ethical  feeling  once  to 
be  outraged  by  the  final  triumph  of  iniquity  over  right- 
eousness ;  were  the  smoke  of  torment  to  ascend  eter- 


*  It  is  at  this  point  that  the  metaphysical  necessity  of  endless  punish- 
ment appears.  For  if  sin  be  intrinsically  damnable,  it  is  intrinsically  pun- 
ishable. If  then  the  question  be  asked  :  How  lomj  is  it  intrinsically  dam- 
nable and  punishable  ?  there  is  but  one  answer.  There  is,  in  fact,  no 
lo;;ical  mean  between  no  punishment  at  all  of  sin  as  an  intrinsic  evil,  and 
an  aljsolute,  that  is,  an  endless  puni:?hnient  of  it. 

t  It  is  a  standing  objection  of  infidelity  to  the  Biblical  idea  and  repre- 
sentation of  the  Deity,  that  it  conflicts  with  the  natural  intuitions  of  the 
human  mind.  It  is  asserted  that  the  instinctive  sentiments  of  the  soul 
repel  the  doctrine  of  anger  against  sin.  The  ethics  of  nature,  say  tlicse 
tliL'orizcrs,  :ire  contrary  to  the  ethics  of  scripture  upon  this  point,  and  hence 
mankind  must  make  a  choice  between  the  two.  But  a  careful  study  of  the 
most  profound  systems  of  natural  religion  does  not  corroborate  this  asser- 
tion. Probably  no  mind,  outside  of  the  pale  of  Cbristianity,  has  made  a 
more  discriminating  and  truthful  rcpi'escntation  of  the  natural  sentiments 
of  the  human  mind,  than  Aristotle  But  this  dispassionate  thinker  asserts 
tliat  "  lie  who  f'cls  anger  oi  proper  occasions,  at  proper  persons,  and  in  a 
proper  manner,  and  for  a  proper  length  of  time,  is  an  object  of  praise."  — 
yicoiiuuh(:(in  Ethics,  Book  IV.  c.  5. 

25 


290  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

nally  from  pure  and  innocent  Rpirits,  and  were  ihe 
revelry  of  joy  to  steam  up  everlastingly  from  the  souls 
of  the  vile  and  the  worthless  ;  were  the  great  relations 
of  right  and  wrong,  sin  and  penalty,  happiness  and 
misery,  once  to  be  reversed  in  the  universe,  and  under  the 
government  of  God,  then  indeed  this  quick  sense  of 
justice,  and  this  holy  indignation  at  sin,  would  be  a  grief 
and  a  sorrow  to  its  possessor.  And  therefore  it  is,  that, 
in  all  the  Divine  administration,  and  in  the  entire  plan 
of  redemption,  the  utmost  possible  pains  is  taken  to 
justify,  and  legitimate,  and  satisfy  this  judicial  senti- 
ment, and  to  see  that  its  demands  are  fully  met. 

There  must  be  this  correspondence  between  the  judi- 
cial nature  of  man  and  the  judicial  nature  of  God,  or 
religion  is  impossible.  How  can  man  even  know  what 
is  meant  by  justice  in  the  Deity,  if  there  is  absolutely 
nothing  of  the  same  species  in  his  own  rational  consti- 
tution, which  if  realized  in  his  own  character  as  it  is  in 
that  of  God,  would  make  him  just  as  God  is  just  ?  How 
can  he  know  what  is  meant  by  moral  perfection  in  God, 
if  in  his  own  rational  spirit  there  is  absolutely  no  ideal 
of  moral  excellence,  which  if  realized  in  himself  as  it  is 
in  the  Creator,  would  make  him  excellent  as  he  is  excel- 
lent ?  Without  some  mental  correspondent,  to  which 
to  appeal  and  commend  themselves,  the  teachings  of 
revelation  could  not  be  apprehended.  A  body  of  knowl- 
edge alone  is  not  the  whole  ;  there  must  be  an  inlet  for 
it,  an  organ  of  apprehension.  But  if  there  is  no  such 
particular  part  of  the  human  constitution  as  has  been 
described,  and  these  calm  judgments  of  the  moral  sense, 
and  this  righteous  displeasure  of  the  conscience,  are  to 
be  put  upon  a  level  with  the  workings  of  the  fancy  and 
imagination,  or  the  selfish  passions  of  the  human  heart, 
then  there  is  no  point  of  contact  and  communication 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.         29i 

between  the  nature  of  man  and  the  being  of  God. 
There  is  no  part  of  his  own  complex  being  upon  which 
man  may  fall  back,  with  the  certainty  of  not  being  mis- 
taken in  judgments  of  ethics  and  religion.  Both  anchor 
and  anchoring-ground  are  gone,  and  he  is  afloat  upon 
the  boundless,  starless  ocean  of  ignorance  and  scepti- 
cism. Even  if  revelations  are  made,  they  cannot  enter 
his  mind.  There  is  no  contacting  surface  through 
which  they  can  approach  and  take  hold  of  his  being. 
They  cannot  be  seen  to  be  what  they  really  are,  the 
absolute  truth  of  God,  because  there  is  no  eye  with 
which  to  see  them. 

Assuming,  then,  that  there  is  this  correspondence  and 
correlationship  between  the  moral  constitution  of  man 
and  the  Divine  Nature,  we  proceed,  in  the  light  of  the 
fact,  to  evince  the  doctrine,  taught  in  the  scripture  texts 
which  we  have  cited,  that  the  atonement  of  Christ  is  a 
real  satisfaction  both  on  the  part  of  God  and  man.  The 
death  of  incarnate  Deity  has  always  been  regarded,  by 
those  who  have  believed  that  the  Deity  became  incar- 
nate in  Jesus  Christ,  as  expiatory.  As  such,  it  relates 
immediately  to  the  attribute  of  justice  in  the  Creator, 
and  to  the  faculty  of  conscience  in  the  creature.  And 
the  position  taken  here,  is  that  it  sustains  the  same  rela- 
tion to  both.  It  satisfies  that  which  would  be  dissatis- 
fied both  in  God  and  man  if  the  penalty  of  sin  were 
merely  set  aside  and  abolished  by  an  act  of  will.  It 
placates  an  ethical  feeling  which  is  manifesting  itself  in 
the  form  of  remorse  in  the  conscience  of  the  trans- 
gressor, only  because  it  has  first  existed  in  the  nature 
of  God  in  the  form  of  a  judicial  displeasure  towards 
moral  evil. 

A  fundamental  attribute  of  Deity  is  justice.  This 
comes  first  into  view,  and  continues  in  sight  to  the  very 


292  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

last,  in  all  inquiries  into  the  Divine  Nature.  No  attri- 
bute can  be  conceived  of  that  is  more  ultimate  and 
central  than  this  one.  This  is  proved  by  the  fact  tliat 
the  operation  of  all  the  other  Divine  attributes,  love 
itself  not  excepted,  is  conditioned  and  limited  by  justice. 
For  whatever  else  God  may  be,  or  may  not  be,  he  must 
be  just.  It  is  not  optional  with  him  to  exercise  this 
attribute,  or  not  to  exercise  it,  as  it  is  in  the  instance 
of  that  class  of  attributes  which  are  antithetic  to  it. 
We  can  say  :  "  God  may  be  merciful  or  not,  as  he 
pleases  ;"  but  we  cannot  say  :  "  God  may  be  just  or  not, 
as  he  pleases."  It  cannot  be  asserted  that  God  is  inex- 
orably obligated  to  show  pity  ;  but  it  can  be  categori- 
cally affirmed  that  God  is  inexorably  obligated  to  do 
justly.*  For  the  characteristic  of  justice  is  necessary 
exaction;  while,  if  we  may  accommodate  a  Shaksperean 
phrase,  "  the  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained.^^  Hence 
the  exercise  of  justice  can  be  demonstrated  upon 
a  priori  grounds,  while  that  of  mercy  is  known  only  by 
a  declaration  or  promise  upon  the  part  of  God.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  man  can  have  no  certainty  that  the 

*  Owen  (Dissertation  on  Divine  Justice,  Chap.  II.),  notices  the  self-con- 
tradiction there  is,  in  conceding  that  justice  is  an  essential  attribute  in  God, 
and  yet  that  it  can  be  set  aside  by  an  act  of  arbitrary  omnipotence,  in  the 
following  terms  :  "  To  me,  these  arguments  are  altogether  astonishing, 
viz. :  '  That  sin-punishing  justice  should  be  natural  to  God,  and  yet  that 
God,  sin  being  supposed  to  exist,  may  either  exercise  it,  or  not  exercise  it.' 
They  may  also  say,  and  with  as  much  propriety,  that  truth  is  natural  to 
God,  but  upon  a  supposition  that  he  were  to  converse  with  man,  he  mifjltt 
either  use  it,  or  not ;  or,  that  omnipotence  is  natural  to  God,  but  upon  a 
supposition  that  he  were  inclined  to  do  any  work  without  (extra)  himself, 
that  it  loerefree  to  him  to  act  omnipotently  or  not ;  or,  finally,  that  sin-punishing 
justice  is  among  the  primary  causes  of  the  death  of  Christ,  and  that  Christ 
was  set  forth  as  a  propitiation,  to  declare  his  righteousness,  and  yet  tliat 
that  justice  required  not  the  ])unishment  of  sin.  For  if  it  should  require  it, 
how  is  it  possible  that  it  should  not  necessarily  require  it,  since  God  would 
be  unjust,  if  he  should  not  inflict  punishment." 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.  293 

Deity  is  a  merciful  being,  except  as  he  obtains  it  from  a 
special  revelation.  When  the  thoughtful  pagan  looked 
up  into  the  pure  heavens  above  him,  or  into  the  deep 
recesses  within  him,  he  had  no  doubt  that  the  Infinite 
One  is  just,  and  a  punisher  of  evil  doing,  because  he 
must  be  such.  Hence  he  trembled  ;  and  hence  he 
offered  a  propitiatory  sacrifice.  Bat  neither  from  the 
heavens,  nor  from  anything  in  his  ow^n  moral  constitu- 
tion, could  he  obtain  certainty  in  regard  to  the  attribute 
of  mercy  ;  because  there  is  nothing  of  a  necessary  na- 
ture in  the  exercise  of  this  attribute.  God  might  or 
might  not  be  merciful  to  him.  Man  may  dare  to  hope 
that  there  is  pity  in  the  Deity ;  but  whether  there  actu- 
ally is,  he  cannot  know  with  certainty  until.,the  heavens 
are  opened,  and  a  voice  issues  from  the  lips  of  the 
Supreme  himself,  saying  :  "  I  vnll  show  mercy,  and  this 
is  my  beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased."  The 
light  of  nature  is  sufficient  for  man's  damnation  ;  but  it 
casts  not  a  ray  in  the  direction  of  his  salvation.  There 
is  ample  evidence  from  natural  religion  that  the  Deity 
is  holy  and  impartial ;  but  it  is  only  from  revealed  re- 
ligion that  the  human  mind  obtains  its  warrant  for 
believing  in  the  Divine  clemency.  From  the  position 
of  natural  ethics  alone,  man  is  merely  condemned  to 
retribution  ;  and,  as  matter  of  fact,  while  standing  only 
upon  this  position,  his  conscience  accuses  him,  and  fills 
him  with  fears  and  forebodings  of  judgment.  Noth- 
ing but  a  projnise  of  forgiveness,  from  the  mouth  of 
God,  can  remove  these  fears ;  but  a  promise  to  pardon 
is  not  a  priori,  and  necessary,  like  a  threatening  to 
punish. 

The  absolute  and  indefeasible  nature  of  justice  is 
seen,  again,  by  considering  the  nature  of  law.  If  we 
regard  the  moral  law  as  the  efflux  of  the  Divine  Nature, 

2o' 


294  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

and  not,  as  in  the  Grotian  theory,  a  poi^itive  statute 
which  may  be  relaxed  in  part,  or  wholly  abrogated,  by 
the  law-making  power,*  we  find  this  same  stark  neces- 
sity existing.  The  law  is  obligated  to  punish  the  trans- 
gressor, as  much  as  the  transgressor  is  obligated  to  obey 
the  law.  Human  society,  for  instance,  has  claim  upon 
law  for  penalty,  as  really  as  law  has  claim  upon  human 
society  for  obedience.  Law  has  no  option.  Justice 
has  but  one  function.  The  necessity  of  penalty  is  as 
great  as  the  necessity  of  obligation.  The  law  itself 
is  under  law ;  that  is,  it  is  under  the  necessity  of  its 
own  nature ;  and  therefore  the  only  possible  way 
whereby  a  transgressor  can  escape  the  penalty  of  law, 
is  for  a  substitute  to  endure  it  for  him.  The  language 
of  Milton  respecting  the  transgressor  is  metaphysically 
true  : 


*  "All  positive  laws,"  says  Grotius  (Defensio  Fidei,  Caput  III.  p.  310, 
Ed.  Amstelaedemi,  1679),  "  are  relaxable.  Those  who  fear  that  if  we  con- 
cede this,  we  do  an  injury  to  God  because  we  thereby  represent  him  as  mu- 
table, are  much  deceived.  For  law  is  not  sometliing  internal  in  God,  or  in  the 
will  itself  of  God,  but  it  is  a  particular  effect  or  product  of  his  will  (voluntatis 
quidam  effectus).  But  that  the  effects,  or  products  of  the  Divine  will  are 
mutable,  is  very  certain.  Moreover,  in  promulgating  a  positive  law,  which 
he  might  wish  to  relax  at  some  future  time,  God  does  not  exhibit  any 
fickleness  of  will.  For  God  seriously  indicated  that  he  desired  that  his  law 
should  be  valid,  and  obligatory;  lohile  ijet  he  reserved  the  right  of  relaxing  it, 
if  he  saio  Jit,  because  tliis  right  pertains  to  a  positive  law,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  and  cannot  be  abdicated  by  the  Deity.  Nay  more,  the 
Deity  does  not  abdicate  the  right  of  even  al)rogating  law  altogether,  as  is 
apparent  from  the  instance  of  the  ceremonial  law."  Grotius  then  proceeds 
to  apply  this  principle  to  the  moral  law,  and  the  penalty  accompanying 
it,  and  though  intending  to  counteract  the  Socinian  theory,  lays  down  posi- 
tions which  in  the  judgment  of  dogmatic  historians  logically  lead  to  it  — 
See  Baumgarten —  Crusins  (Dogmengeschichte,  II.  274) ;  Miinscher  —  Von 
Colin  —  Nendecker  (Dogmengeschichte,  III.  508);  Baur  (Versohnungslehre, 
414 — 435,  —  translated  in  Bibliotheca  Sacra,  IX.  259 — 272);  Hageiihach, 
{Dogmengeschichte,  3  Aufl-  §  268)  ;  Ersch  und  Gruber's  Encychpddie  (Art. 
Acccptilatio)  ;  Hengstenherg's  Kir^hen-Zeitung  for  1834. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.         295 

"  He,  Avith  all  his  posterity,  must  die : 
Die  he,  or  justiee  must ;  unless  for  him 
Some  other  able,  and  as  williui;,  pay 
The  rigid  satisfaction,  death  for  death."* 

And  the  mercy  of  God  consists  in  substituting-  Himself 
incarnate  for  his  creature,  for  purjwses  of  atonement. 
Analyzed  to  its  ultimate  elementi^,  God's  pity  towards 
the  soul  of  man  is  God's  satisfying  his  own  eternal 
attribute  of  justice  for  it.  It  does  not  consist  in  out- 
raging his  own  law.  and  the  guilt-smitten  conscience 
itself,  by  simply  snatching  the  criminal  away  from  their 
retributions,  in  the  exercise  of  an  unprincipled  and  an 
unbridled  almightiness,  or  in  substituting  a  partial  for  a 
complete  atonement ;  but  in  enduring  the  full  and 
entire  penal  infliction  by  which  both  are  satisfied.! 


*  Paradise  Lost,  III.  209—212. 

t  It  was  one  of  the  objections  of  Socinus  to  the  theory  of  ])lenary  satis- 
faction, that  if  God  has  received  a  full  equivalent  for  the  punishment  due 
to  man,  then  he  does  not  exercise  any  mercy  in  remitting  his  sin.  But  this 
objection  overlooks  the  fact  that  the  equivalent  is  not  furnished  by  man,  but 
by  God.  Were  the  atonement  the  crra/?<re's  oblation  to  justice,  Socinus's 
objection  would  have  force.  But  it  is  God,  and  not  man,  who  satisfies 
justice  for  the  sinner.  It  is  indeed  a  se//-satisfaction  upon  the  part  of  God, 
}et  none  the  less  a  scK-sacriJice ;  and  self-sacrifice  is  confessedly  the  highest 
form  of  love.  The  truth  is,  that  this  objection  of  Socinus  begs  the  ques- 
tion in  dispute,  by  defining  mercy  in  its  own  way.  It  assumes  (as  Socinus 
expressly  argues,  Bih.  Frat.  Pol.  I.  5G6  sq.)  that  the  ideas  of  satisfaction 
and  mercy  mutually  exclude  each  other ;  that  mercy  consists  in  relaxing 
and  ivniriiu]  justice,  and  not  in  vicariously  satisfnintf  it.  From  this  premiss 
it  follows,  of  course,  that  where  there  is  any  satisfaction  of  justice  there  is 
no  mercy,  and  where  there  is  any  waiving  of  justice  there  is  mercy.  A 
complete  atonement,  consequently,  would  exclude  mercy  altogether  ;  a  par- 
ti;il  atonement  would  allow  some  room  for  mercy,  in  partially  waiving  legal 
claims  ;  and  no  atonement  at  all  would  aflford  full  play  for  the  attribute, 
by  the  entire  nullification  of  all  judicial  demands.  According  to  the  catholic 
view,  on  the  contrary,  the  ideas  of  satisfaction  and  mercy  are  combined 
and  harmonized  in  a  vicarious  atonement,  or  the  assttmption  of  penalty  by 
a  competent  person.     If  the  sinner  himself  should  suflier  the  penalty,  there 


296  THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT. 

Still  another  proof  of  the  primary  nature  of  justice 
is  found  in  the  fact  of  human  accountability.  The 
most  distinguishing  characteristic  of  man  is  evidence  of 
the  most  distinguishing  characteristic  of  God  ;  and  thus 
the  correspondence  between  the  Divine  and  the  human 
meets  us  again.  Man  is  not  a  link  in  the  necessary  chain 
of  material  nature.  He  is  by  creation  a  free  creature ; 
capable  of  continuing  holy  as  he  was  created,  or  of 
turning  to  sin.  Now,  over  against  this  freedom  and  re- 
sponsibility on  the  part  of  man,  there  stands  justice  on 
the  part  of  God.  This  great  divine  attribute  presup- 
poses the  hazardous  human  endowment  of  will,  and 
holds  the  possessor  of  it  accountable  for  its  use  or 
abuse.  Without  such  a  characteristic,  man  could  not 
fjtand  in  any  sort  of  relationship  to  such  solemn  realities 
as  law  and  justice.  There  would  be  nothing  in  his  con- 
stitution that  could  feel  the  tremendous  swing  and 
blow  of  penal  infliction.  For  justice  smites  a  trans- 
gressor as  one  who  has  illegitimately  assumed  a  centre 
of  his  own,  and  who  is  wickedly  standing  upon  that 
centre,  in  hostility  to  the  being  and  government  of  God. 
In  a  certain  sense,  though  not  that  which  excludes  the 
permissive  decree  and  the  preventive  power  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  justice  supposes  the  sinner  to  be  sustain- 
ing something  of  the  isolated  and  self-asserting  relation 
to  God  that  the  principle  of  evil  in  the  system  of  dual- 
ism sustains  to  the  principle  of  good  ;  and  when  the 
accountable  self-will  of  a  creature  attempts  to  set  itself 
up  as  an  independent  and  hostile  agent  in  the  doing 

would  be  no  vicariousness  in  the  suffering,  and  there  would  be  the  execu- 
tion of  justice  merely,  without  any  mercy.  But  when  the  incarnate  Son 
of  God,  as  the  sinner's  substitute,  endures  the  penalty  due  to  sin,  justice  is 
satisfied  by  tlie  suffering  whicli  is  undergone ;  and  the  Son  of  God,  surely, 
shows  the  height  of  compassion  in  undergoing  it. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.  297 

of  evil,  it  then  feels  the  full  foree  of  the  avenging, 
vindicating  stroke  of  law,  as  if  it  were  a  single  dis- 
connected atom,  all  alone  and  by  itself,  in  the  middle 
of  creation. 

Any  jnst  view  of  sin  as  guilty  as  the  product  of  iviU., 
is,  consequently,  corroborative  of  the  position  that  the 
attribute  of  which  we  are  speaking  is  an  immanent  and 
necessary  one  in  the  Divine  Nature.  We  might  con- 
ceive of  the  same  amount  of  evil  consequences  as  those 
which  flow  from  human  transgression  ;  but  if  this  latter 
were  not  the  real  work  and  agency  of  a  responsible 
creature,  EternalJustice  could  take  no  cognizance  of  it. 
Unless  sin  is  criine,  penalty  has  no  more  relation  to  it 
than  it  has  to  the  disease  and  corruption  in  the  material 
world  about  us  ;  and  the  fall  of  man  could  no  more  be 
visited  by  the  infliction  of  judicial  suff*ering,  than  could 
that  process  of  decay  which  is  continually  going  on  in 
the  forests,  by  means  of  which  a  more  luxuriant  vege- 
tation springs  up,  and  a  more  glorious  forest  waves  in 
the  breeze. 

It  has  been  a  query  among  those  who  have  spec- 
ulated upon  the  nature  of  the  Deity  :  What  is  the  base 
or  substrate  of  His  being?  The  inquiry  has  too  often 
been  so  answered  as  to  bring  in  a  subtle  pantheism, 
because  there  was  more  reference  to  the  natural  than 
the  ethical  attributes  of  the  Godhead.  Whether  the 
question  in  such  a  reference  can  be  answered  by  the 
finite  mind,  we  do  not  pretend  to  decide  here  ;  but  with 
reference  to  God's  moral  constitution,  with  reference  to 
that  congeries  of  ^'^/i/ca/ attributes  which  belongs  to  him 
as  a  personal  being,  it  is  as  certain  as  anything  can  be, 
that  the  deep  substrate  and  base  of  them  all,  is  eternal 
law  and  impartial  justice.  This  pervades  all  the  rest, 
keeps  them  in  equilibrium,  and  constitutes,  as  it  were, 


298  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

the  very  divinity  of  the  Deity.  And  this  view  of  the 
primary  nature  of  justice  coincides  with  the  convictions 
of  men  in  all  ages.  In  all  time,  justice  has  been  the 
one  particular  divine  attribute  that  has  pressed  most 
heavily  upon  the  human  race.  This  always  comes  first 
into  man's  mind,  when  the  idea  of  the  Deity  over- 
shadows him.  He  trembles  when  he  remembers  that 
God  is  just ;  and  he  remembers  this  when  he  remem- 
bers nothing  else.  Nor  let  it  be  objected  that  this  is 
owing  to  the  fact  that  man  is  sinful,  and  tliat  this  qual- 
ity in  the  Supreme  Being  would  not  be  so  prominent  in 
the  mind  of  an  unfallen  creature  who  has  nothing  to 
fear  from  it.  The  utterance  of  the  pure  burning  sera- 
phim is:  Holy^  Holy,  Holy.  That  which  comes  first 
into  the  minds  of  the  spotless  and  unfearing  worship- 
pers in  God's  immediate  presence,  —  they  whose  spirits, 
in  the  phrase  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  "are  becalmed,  and 
made  even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus,  and  smooth  like  the 
heart  of  God,"  —  is  that  particular  characteristic  in  the 
Divine  Being,  by  virtue  of  which  he  has  a  right  to  sit 
on  the  eternal  throne;  that  specific  attribute  upon  which 
the  moral  administration  of  the  universe  must  be  estab- 
]ish(^d. 

Now,  if  this  be  a  correct  statement  of  the  necessary 
nature  and  the  capital  position  of  Divine  Justice,  it  is 
plain  that  any  plan  or  method  that  has  to  do  with  sin 
and  guilt,  must  have  primary  reference  to  it,  and  must 
give  plenary  satisfaction  to  it  as  it  exists  in  God  himself. 
Inasmuch  as  justice,  and  not  mercy,  is  the  limiting  and 
conditioning'  attribute,  its  demands  must  be  acknowl- 
edged and  met  in  order  that  mercy  may  make  even  the 
^first  advances  towards  the  transgressor.  Compassion 
cannot,  by  mere  arbitrary  will  and  might,  stride  forward 
to  reach  its  own  private  ends,  and  trample  down  justice 


THE     DOCTRIXE    OF    ATONEMENT.  290 

by  sheer  force  ;  but  must  come  forth,  as  she  dors  in  th<' 
bleeding  Lamb  of  God,  as  the  voluntary  servant  and 
victim  of  Law,  doing  all  its  behests,  and  bearing  all  its 
burdens,  and  enduring  its  sharp,  inexorable  pains,  in  the 
place  of  (vice^  vicarie)  the  helpless  object  whom  ven- 
geance suffereth  not  to  live.  The  cup  must  be  put  to 
the  lips  of  him  who  has  volunteered  to  be  the  Atoner, 
and  he  must  drink  it  to  the  bottom,  for  the  guilty  trans- 
gressor whose  law-place  he  has  taken.  The  God-man 
having,  out  of  his  own  free  will  and  affection,  become 
the  sinner's  Suhstitjite^  must  now  receive  a  sinner's  treat- 
ment, and  be  "numbered  with  the  transgressors"  (Isa. 
liii.  12).  He  cannot  therefore  escape  the  agony  and 
passion,  the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness.  He  may 
give  expression  to  his  spontaneous  shrinking  from  the 
awful  self-oblation,  as  the  hour  darkens  and  draws  on, 
in  the  utterance  :  "  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let 
this  cup  pass  from  me;"  but  having  taken  the  place  of 
the  guilty^  it  is  not  possible,  and  he  must  sweat  the 
bloody  sweat,  he  must  cry :  "  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  that  his  voice  may  then  ring 
tlirough  the  universe  and  down  the  ages  :  "It  is  finished, 
—  the  atonement  is  made."* 

For  the  Deity  cannot,  by  an  arbitrary  and  unprin- 
cipled procedure,  release  the  transgressor's  Substitute 
from  the  penal  suffering,  and  inflict  a  wound  upon  that 
holy  judicial  nature,  which  is  vital  in  every  part  with 

*  "  Tha  justice  of  God  is  exceedingly  glorified  in  this  work.  God  is  so 
strictly  and  immutably  just,  that  he  would  not  spare  his  beloved  Son  when 
he  took  upon  him  the  guilt  of  men's  sins,  and  was  substituted  in  the  room 
of  sinners.  He  would  not  abate  him  the  least  mite  of  that  debt  width 
justice  demanded.  Justice  should  take  place,  though  it  cost  his  infinitely 
dear  Son  his  precious  blood  ;  and  his  enduring  such  extraordinary  reproach, 
and  pain,  and  death  in  its  most  dreadful  form."  —  Edwards's  Works,  IV. 
140. 


300  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

the  breath  of  law  and  the  life  of  justice.  By  reason  of 
an  immanent  necessity,  he  cannot  disturb  his  own  eter- 
nal sense  of  righteousness  and  ethical  tranquillity,  by 
doing  damage  to  one  whole  side  of  his  Godhead. 

He  has  not.  In  the  voluntary,  the  cordially  offered, 
sacrifice  of  the  incarnate  Son,  the  judicial  nature  of 
God,  which  by  a  constitutional  necessity  requires  the 
punishment  of  sin,  finds  its  righteous  requirement  fully 

fmet.  Plenary  punishment  is  inflicted  upon  One  who  is 
/  infinite,  and  therefore  competent;  upon  One  who  is 
finite,  and  therefore  passible  ;  upon  One  who  is  inno- 
cent, and  therefore  can  suffer  for  others ;  upon  One  who 
is  voluntary,  and  therefore  uncompelled.  By  this  the- 
anthropic  oblation,  the  ethical  feeling,  the  organic  emo- 
tion of  displeasure  in  the-  Deity  is,  in  the  scripture 
phrase,  made  "propitious"  towards  the  guilty,  because 
it  has  been  placated  by  it.  Thus  God  is  immutably 
just  while  he  justifies  (Rom.  iii.  26),  and  his  mercy  is, 
in  the  last  analysis,  one  with  his  truth  and  his  law. 

j^  We  turn,  now,  to  the  other  half  of  the  proposition 
derived  from  the  scripture  texts  that  have  been  cited, 
and  proceed  to  show  that  the  atonement  of  Christ 
effects  a  real  satisfaction  upon  the  part  of  man.  We 
have  seen  that  the  propitiatory  death  of  the  God-man 
meets  the  immanent  ethical  necessities  of  the  Divine 
Nature.  We  have  now  the  easier  task  of  evincing  that 
it  meets  the  moral  wants  of  human  nature. 

In  discussing  the  fact  of  a  divinely-established  cor- 
respondence between  the  judicial  nature  of  man  and 
that  of  God,  we  have  already  observed  that  the  attribute 
of  justice  naturally  selects  this  judicial  part  of  man  as 
the  inlet  of  approach  to  him.  Eternal  law  has,  in  all 
ages,  poured  itself  down  through  the  human  conscience^ 
like  a  fountain   through   the   channel   it   has  worn  for 


THI-:    DOCTRIXH    OF    ATONEMENT.  301 

itself,  and  in  this  instance  like  hot  lava  down  a  moun- 
tain gorge.  Hence  by  watching  its  workings  within 
this  particular  facnlty,  we  are  enabled  to  determine 
what  man's  judicial  nature  requires,  and  also  inciden- 
tally to  throw  back  sotne  more  light  upon  the  relations 
of  the  atonement  to  the  Divine  Nature.  It  is  indeed 
true  that  Divine  Justice  manifests  itself  in  other  modes 
than  this.  There  are  revelations  of  it  in  the  written 
word,  and  in  the  course  of  providence  and  human  his- 
tory. But  we  are  endeavoring  to  establish  the  position 
that  the  atonement  has  an  internal  necessity  grounded 
in  the  very  moral  being  of  man.  It  is  necessary,  there- 
fore, to  look  at  the  principle  of  law  in  its  vital  and  felt 
manifestation  within  the  soul  of  the  criminal  himself. 
By  the  analysis  of  the  contents  of  a  remorseful  con- 
science, especially  if  it  has  been  made  unusually  living 
and  poignant  by  the  truth  and  Spirit  of  God,  w^e  may 
discover  much  of  the  real  quality  of  Eternal  Justice. 
xVs  this  august  attribute  acts  and  reacts  within  the 
breast  of  man  upon  his  violation  of  law,  we  may  obtain 
some  clear  and  conscious  knowledge  of  its  nature  and 
operations ;  and  also  of  what  the  human  conscience 
itself  demands,  and  with  what  it  is  satisfied. 

The  commission  of  sin  is  either  attended  or  suc- 
ceeded by  the  sensation  of  guilty  —  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinct and  unique  of  all  the  sensations  that  emerge 
within  the  horizon  of  self -consciousness.  Provided  con- 
science does  its  unmixed  w^ork,  the  transgressor  is  con- 
scious, not  merely  of  unhappiness,  which  is  a  very  low 
form  of  feeling,  but  of  criminalU?/,  which  is  a  very  high 
form.  Nay,  the  more  profound  and  thorough  the  ope- 
ration of  the  moral  faculty  becomes,  the  more  does  the 
sense  of  mere  wretchedness  retreat  into  the  back- 
ground, and  the  sense  of  ill-desert  come  forth  into  the 

26 


302  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

foreground  of  consciousness.  It  is  possible  for  this 
latter  element  to  drive  out,  for  a  time,  the  particular 
feeling  of  misery,  and  to  absorb  the  mind  in  the  sense 
of  horror  and  amazement  at  the  past  transgression. 
The  guilty,  in  the  final  day,  are  represented  as  calling 
upon  the  rocks  and  Ihe  mountains  to  fall  upon  thtMu, 
as  inviting  new  forms  of  suffering,  in  the  vain  hope 
that  the  awful  consciousness  of  crime  may  be  drowned 
thereby. 

Now,  seizing  and  holding  the  experience  of  the  trans- 
gressor at  this  point,  let  us  examine  it  more  closely. 
Notice  that  this  consciousness  of  guilt,  pure  and  simple, 
is  wholly  involmitary.  It  comes  in  upon  the  criminal, 
not  only  without  his  will,  but  in  spite  of  it.  He  would 
keep  it  out,  if  he  could.  He  would  drive  it  out,  if  he 
could.  His  experience  at  this  stage,  then,  is  the  result 
of  no  voluntary  effort  upon  his  part,  but  of  the  simple 
reaction  oflaiv^  the  most  dispassionate  and  unselfish  of 
all  realities,  against  its  violator.  In  the  conscience,  that 
part  of  the  human  constitution  which  we  have  seen  to 
be  the  proper  seat  and  organ  for  such  an  operation,  the 
commandment  is  making  itself  felt  again,  not  as  at 
first  in  the  form  of  command,  but  of  condemnation. 
The  free  agent  has  responsibly  disobeyed  the  holy, 
just,  and  good  statute,  and  is  now  feeling  the  tremen- 
dous reaction  of  it  in  his  own  moral  being.  This  re- 
morse, or  damnatory  emotion,  therefore,  is  the  work  of 
God's  law,  and  not  of  man's  will.  There  is,  conse- 
quently, very  little  of  the  selfish  and  the  earthly,  but 
much  of  the  unearthly  and  the  eternal,  in  the  trans- 
gressor's experience  held  at  this  point.  He  can  take  no 
merit  to  himself,  because  it  is  of  such  an  intensely 
ethical  and  spiritual  character,  since  the  entire  process, 
so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  is  involuntary  and  organic.  It 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  303 

is  provided  for  in  his  judicial  constitution,  and  as  an 
operation  within  himself  it  is  to  be  regarded,  not  as  the 
working  of  his  corrupt  heart,  but  as  the  infliction  of  Di- 
vine retribution  and  justice,  in  and  through  the  judicial 
faculty.  Man  can  take  no  merit  to  himself  because  he 
possesses  a  power  that  condemns  evil,  and  distresses 
therefor.  For  this  is  the  workmanship  of  the  Creator, 
and  it  exists  in  hell  as  well  as  heaven.  The  workings 
of  conscience  are  as  much  beyond  the  control  of  the 
will,  are  as  truly  organic,  as  those  of  the  sympathetic 
nerve,  and  therefore  are  worthy  of  neither  praise  nor 
blame.  Given  conscience  and  sin,  within  one  and  the 
same  soul,  and  remorse  must  follow  as  a  matter  of 
necessity.  Hence  remorse  is  never  made  the  subject  of 
a  command.  Man  is  commanded  to  melt  down  in 
godly  sorrow,  but  never  to  be  filled  with  remorse  ;  for 
this  is  provided  for  in  the  moral  constitution  given  by 
Ilim  who  makes  it  the  fiery  chariot  by  which  he  him- 
self rides  into  man's  being,  in  majesty,  to  judgment. 

Hence  this  sense  of  ill-desert,  though  its  sensorium  is 
the  human  conscience,  must  be  traced  back  for  its  first 
cause,  to  a  yet  deeper  ground,  and  a  yet  higher  origin. 
For  if  it  were  a  fact,  that  remorse  had  nothing  but  a 
human  source,  though  that  source  were  the  highest  and 
most  venerable  of  the  human  faculties,  and  the  trans- 
gressor should  know  it,  he  could  overcome  and  suppress 
it.  Nothing  that  has  a  merely  finite  origin  can  be  a 
permanent  source  of  misery;  and  if  the  victim  of  re- 
morse could  but  be  certain  that  the  just  and  holy  God 
has  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  origin  of  the  distress 
within  him,  he  could  ultimately  expel  it  from  his  breast. 
If  he  could  be  assured  that  the  terrible  emotion  which 
follows  ihe  coiumission  of  evil,  though  welling  up  from 
the  lowest   springs  of  his  own  nature,  yet  has  no  con- 


304  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

nection  with  the  nether  fountains  of  the  Divine  Essence, 
he  could  put  an  end  to  his  torment.  P'or  no  man  is 
afraid  of  himself  alone,  and  irrespective  of  his  Maker 
and  Judge.  That  which  renders  a  portion  of  our  com- 
mon and  finite  humanity  terrible  to  us,  is  the  fact,  that 
it  is  grounded  in  and  supported  by  that  which  is  more 
than  human.  In  the  instance  before  us,  the  highest 
part  of  the  human  constitution  supports  itself  by  strik- 
ing its  deep  roots  into  the  holiness  and  justice  of  the 
Godhead;  and  therefore  it  is  that  conscience  makes 
cowards  of  us  all,  and  its  remorse  is  a  feeling  that  is 
invincible  by  the  strongest  finite  will,  and  requires,  in 
order  to  its  extinction,  the  blood  of  atonement. 

We  are,  therefore,  compelled  back  into  the  being  and 
character  of  God,  for  the  ultimate  origin  of  this  sense 
of  guilt,  and  this  "fearful  looking-for  of  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation."  And  why  should  we  not  be  ?  If 
Justice  is  living  and  sensitive  anywhere,  it  must  be  so 
in  its  eternal  seat  and  home.  If  law  is  jealous  for  its 
own  authority  and  maintenance  anywhere,  it  must  be  in 
that  Being  to  whom  all  eyes  in  the  universe  are  turned 
with  the  inquiry  :  "  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth 
do  right?"  What,  therefore,  conscience  affirms,  in  the 
transgressor's  case,  God  affirms,  and  is  the  first  to  affirm. 
What,  therefore,  conscience  feels  in  respect  to  the  sin- 
ner's transgression,  God  feels,  and  is  the  first  to  feel. 
What,  therefore,  conscience  requires  in  order  that  it 
may  cease  to  punish  the  guilty  spirit,  God  requires  and 
is  the  first  to  require.  In  fine,  all  that  is  requisite  in 
order  to  the  satisfaction  and  pacification  of  conscience 
towards  the  sinful  soul  in  which  it  dwells,  is  also  requi- 
site in  order  to  the  satisfaction  and  "  propitiation  "  of 
God  the  Just ;  and  it  is  requisite  in  the  former  case  only 
because  it  is  first  requisite  in  the  latter.     The  subjective 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  305 

ill  man  is  shaped  by  the  objective  in  God,  and  not  the 
objective  in  God  by  the  subjective  in  man.  The  con- 
t^ciousness  of  the  conscience  is  the  reliex  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  God. 

But  what,  now,  does  conscience  require,  in  order  that 
it  may  become  pacified  with  respect  to  past  transgres- 
sion ?  We  answer,  simply  and  solely  an  atonement  for 
that  past  transgression  ;  simply  and  solely  that  just  inflic- 
tion which  is  due  to  guilt.  That  is  a  powerful,  because 
profoundly  truthful,  passage  in  Coleridge's  play  of  "  Re- 
morse," in  which  the  guilty  and  guilt-smitten  Ordonio  is 
stabbed  by  Alhadra,  the  wife  of  the  murdered  Isidore. 
As  the  steel  drinks  his  own  heart's  blood,  he  utters  the 
one  single  word  '•'•  Atonement  I'' ^  His  self-accusing  spirit, 
which  is  wrung  with  its  remorseful  recollections,  and 
which  the  warm  and  hearty  forgiveness  of  his  injured 
brother  has  not  been  able  to  soothe  in  the  least,  actually 
feels  its  first  gush  of  relief  only  as  the  avenging  knife 
enters,  and  crime  meets  penalty.*  And  how  often,  in 
the  annals  of  guilt,  is  this  principle  illustrated!  The 
criminal  has  wandered  up  and  down  the  earth,  vainly 
seeking  repose  of  conscience,  but  finds  none  until  he 
surrenders  himself  to  the  penalty  of  law.  Those  are 
the  only  hopeful  executions,  in  which  the  guilty  goes  to 
his  dediXh  justifying  the  judicial  sentence  that  condemns 
him,  and,  as  a  completing  act  of  the  solemn  mental 
process,  appropriating  that  yet  more  august  and  trans- 
cendent expiation  which  has  been  made  for  man  by  a 
higher  Being  than  man.     A  guilty  conscience,  when  it 

=*  Tlemorse,  Act  V.  Scene  1.  Coleridge's  Works,  VII.  p.  401.  — The 
psycholofry  of  crime,  or  the  analysis  of  the  consciousness  of  guilt  (Schuld- 
bewusztseyn),  is  a  portion  of  mental  philosophy  that  has  been  jjenerally 
ncfjlected.  The  only  treatise  specifically  devoted  to  it,  that  we  have  met 
with.  i.s  the  Criminal-Psychologie  of  Heinrotli. 

26* 


306  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

has  come  to  a  clear  consciouyness,  wants  its  guilt  expi- 
ated by  the  infliction  of  punishment.  It  feels  that 
strange  unearthly  thirst  of  which  Christ  speaks,  and  for 
which  he  asserts  that  his  blood  of  atonement  is  "drink 
indeed^  It  cannot  be  made  peaceful  except  through 
the  medium  of  a  judicial  infliction;  that  is  to  say,  of  a 
particular  species  of  suffering  that  will  expiate  its  guilt. 
The  mere  offer  of  kindness,  or  good-humor,  to  remit  the 
sin  without  any  regard  to  that  eternal  law  of  retribution 
which  is  now  distressing  the  soul  by  its  righteous  claim, 
does  not  meet  the  ethical  wants.  The  moral  sense, 
when  in  normal  action,  feels  the  necessity  that  crime  be 
punished.  Hence  the  human  conscience  is  a  faculty 
that  is  unappeased,  and  gnaws  like  a  blind  worm,  until 
it  hears  of  the  Lamb,  the  Atonement^  of  God,  that 
taketh  away  the  guilt  of  the  world.  Hence,  however 
much  the  selfish  heart  may  desire  to  escape  at  the 
expense  of  right  and  justice,  the  impartial  conscience 
can  do  no  such  thing.  Before  this  judicial  faculty  can 
be  pacified,  crime  must  incur  penalty,  transgression 
must  receive  an  exact  recompense  of  reward.  When 
this  is  done,  there  is  entire  pacification  ;  there  is  great 
peace,  such  as  death,  and  Satan  the  accuser,  and  the 
day  of  judgment,  and  the  bar  of  justice,  and  the  final 
doom,  cannot  disturb  with  a  single  ripple. 

For  the  correlate  to  guilt  is  punishment;  and  nothing 
but  the  correlate  itself  can  perform  the  function  of  a 
correlate.  A  liquid,  for  example,  is  the  correlative  to 
thirst,  and  nothing  that  is  not  liquid,  however  nutritious, 
and  necessary  to  human  life  in  other  relations,  it  may 
be,  can  be  a  substitute  for  it.  There  may  be  the  "  fat 
kidneys  of  wheat,"  in  superabundance,  but  if  there  be 
not  also  the  "  brook  in  the  way,"  the  human  body  must 
die  of  thirst.     In  fike  manner,  a  judicial  infliction,  or 


THE  DOCTRINK  OF  ATONEMENT.  307 

sufferings  for  purposes  of  justice^  is  the  only  means  by 
which  culpability  can  be  extinguished.  Sanctification, 
or  holiness,  in  this  reference,  is  powerless,  because  there 
is  nothing  penal,  nothing  correlated  to  guilt,  in  it.  The 
Tridentine  method  of  justification  by  sanctification,  is 
not  an  adaptation  of  means  to  ends.  So  far  as  the 
guilt  of  an  act,  —  in  other  words,  its  obligation  to  pun- 
ishment,—  is  concerned,  if  the  transgressor,  or  his  ac- 
cepted  substitute,*  has  endured  the  infliction  that  is  set 

*  Accepted  by  the  law  and  lawtriver.  The  primal  source  of  law  has  no 
power  to  abolish  penalty  any  more  than  to  al)olish  law,  but  it  has  full  power 
to  substitute  penalty.  In  case  of  a  substitution,  however,  it  must  be  a  strict 
equivalent,  and  not  a  fictitious  or  nominal  one.  It  would  contravene  the 
attribute  of  justice,  instead  of  satisfying  it,  should  God,  for  instance,  by  an 
arbitrary  act  of  will,  sui)stitute  the  sacrifice  of  bulls  and  goats  for  the  penalty 
due  to  man  ;  or  if  he  should  offrct  any  Jinite  oblation  against  the  infinite 
demerit  of  moral  evil.  The  inquiry  whether  the  satisfaction  of  justice  by 
Christ's  atonement  was  a  strict  and  literal  one,  has  a  practical  and  not  merely 
theoretical  importance.  A  guilt-smitten  conscience  is  exceedingly  timorous, 
and  hence,  if  there  be  room  for  doubting  the  strict  adequacy  of  tlio  judicial 
provision  that  has  been  made  for  satisfying  the  claims  of  law,  a  peifect 
peace,  the  "peace  of  God,"  is  impossible.  Hence  the  doctrine  of  a  plen- 
ary satisfaction  by  an  infinite  substitute  is  the  only  one  that  ministers  to 
evangelical  repose.  The  dispute  upon  this  point  has  sometimes,  at  least, 
resulted  from  a  confusion  of  ideas  and  terms.  Strict  ecjuivalency  has  been 
confounded  with  identity.  The  assertion  that  Christ's  death  is  a  literal 
equivalent  for  the  punishment  due  to  mankind,  has  been  supposed  to  be 
the  same  as  the  assertion,  that  it  is  identical  witii  it ;  and  a  ])unishment 
identical  with  that  due  to  man  would  involve  remorse,  and  endless  dura- 
tion. But  identity  of  punishment  is  ruled  out  by  the  principle  of  substi- 
tution or  vic(irionsn(:ss,  —  a  principle  that  is  conceded  by  all  who  hold  the 
doctrine  of  atonement.  The  penalty  endured  by  Christ,  therefore,  must 
be  a  substituted,  and  not  an  identical  one.  And  the  only  question  that  re- 
mains is,  whether  that  which  is  to  be  substituted  shall  be  of  a  stn'ct/i/  equal 
value  with  that,  the  place  of  which  it  takes,  or  whether  it  may  be  of  an  in^ 
fcrior  value,  —  and  it  must  be  one  or  the  other.  When  a  loan  of  one  bun- 
dled dollars  in  silver  is  repaid  by  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  there  is  a 
substitution  of  one  metal  for  another.  It  is  not  an  identical  payment;  for 
tills  would  require  the  return  of  the  very  identical  huiidred  pieces  of  silver, 
the  ipsissiiiKi  pecunia,  that  had  been  loaned      But  it  is  a  strict/i/  ami  literally 


308  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

over  against  it,  the  law  is  satisfied,  and  the  obligation 
to  punishment  is  discharged.  And  so  far  as  guilt,  or 
obligation  to  punishment  is  concerned,  until  the  affixed 
penalty  has  been  endured,  by  himself  or  his  accepted 
substitute,  he  is  a  guilty  man,  do  what  else  he  may. 
Even  if  he  should  be  renewed  and  sanctified  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  this  sanctification  has  in  it  nothing 
expiatory^  or  correlative  to  guilt,  and  therefore  could  not 
remove  his  remorse.  Food  is  good  and  necessary,  but 
it  cannot  slake  thirst.  Personal  holiness  is  excellent 
and  indispensable,  but  it  cannot  perform  the  function 
of  atonement.  Hence  sanctification  is  wrought  by 
spiritual  influences,  but  justification  by  expiating  blood. 
The  former  is  the  work  of  the  third  Person  in  the 
Trinity  ;  the  latter  is  that  of  the  second.  Hence,  when 
the  convicted  man  is  distressed  because  of  what  the 
Psalmist  denominates  the  '•'•  iniquity  of  sin,"  its  intrinsic 
guilty  quality,  in  distinction  from  its  miserable  conse- 
quences, he  craves  expiation  sometimes  with  a  hunger 
like  that  of  famine.  And  hence  his  desperate  endeavor 
to  atone  for  the  past,  until  he  discovers  that  it  is  impos- 
sible. Then  he  cries  with  David  :  "  Thou  desirest  not 
sacrifice"  —  such  atonement  as  I  can  render  is  inade- 
quate—  '•'' else  loould  I  give  it,^''*     Taking  him  at  this 

equivalent  payment.  All  claims  are  cancelled  by  it.  In  like  manner,  when 
the  suffering  and  death  of  God  incarnate  is  substituted  for  that  of  the  crea- 
ture, the  satisfaction  rendered  to  law  is  strictly  plenary,  though  not  identi- 
cal with  that  which  is  exacted  from  the  transgressor.  It  contains  the  ele- 
ment of  infinitude,  which  is  the  element  of  value  in  the  case,  with  even 
greater  precision  than  the  satisfaction  of  the  creature  does  ;  because  it  is  the 
suffering  of  a  strictly  infinite  Person  in  a  finite  time,  while  the  latter  is  only 
the  suffering  of  a  finite  person  in  an  endless  but  not  strictly  infinite  time. 
A  strictly  infinite  duration  would  be  Avithout  beginning,  as  well  as  without 
end. 

*  The  true  and  accurate  rendering  of  Psalm  li.  7,  is  not  "purge  me  with 
hyssop,"  but  "  atone  me  ("jstirip)  with  hyssop."    David,  in  the  poignancy 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  309 

point  in  his  exp(M'ionce,  his  desire  is  kn  jiislifmation.  He 
wants,  first  of  all,  to  be  pardoned ;  and,  be  it  observed, 
to  be  pardoned  vpon  those  just  and  eternal  prinriples  that 
will  not  g-ive  ivay  in  the  f^r cat  judicial  emergencies  of  this 
life  and  the  life  to  come.  Then  he  will  commence  the 
good  fight  of  faith.  Then  he  will  ran  in  the  way  of 
obedience  with  an  exnlting  heart,  because  he  is  no 
1  )nger  nnder  condemnation.  "  Whom  he  justifies,  them 
he  glorifies." 

Snch,  it  is  conceived,  is  the  general  doctrine  of  atone- 
ment, to  be  deduced  from  the  shar'p  and  pointed  texts 
of  scripture  cited  in  the  outset  of  this  discussion.  The 
Christian  atonement  possesses  both  an  objective  and  a 
subjective  validity;  it  is  a  satisfaction  for  the  ethical 
nature  of  both  God  and  man. 

Having  thus  contemplated  the  inward  and  metaphys- 
ical nature  of  that  atoning  work  of  incarnate  Deity, 
wliich  is  the  most  stupendous  fact  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  and  one  upon  which  all  its  religious  hopes  and 
welfare  hang,  we  naturally  turn,  in  conclusion,  to  the 
more  external  and  practical  aspects  of  the  great  theme. 
And  the  application  of  the  doctrine  will  be  found  to  be 
all  the  more  acceptable  to  the  Christian  heart,  and  |)ro- 
fitable  for  Christian  edification,  if  the  principles  and 
theory  from  which  ir  flows  are  profound  and  thorough. 
The  cup  of  cold  water  is  all  the  more  grateful  to  the 
thirsty  soul,  if  it  has  been  drawn  up  from  the  deep 
wells;  and  it  is  certain  that  divine  truth  gains,  rather 
than  loses,  in  popular  and  practical  efficiency,  upon 
both  the  mind  and  heart,  if  it  be  sought  for  in  its  purest 
and  most  central  sources.  That  view  of  the  work  of 
Christ  which   represents   it  as   meeting  all  the  ethical 

of  liis  consciousness  of  p:uilt,  prays,  not  for  a  cleansing  merely  but,  for  an 
expiatory  cleansing. 


810  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

necessities  of  both  the  divine  and  the  human  natures, 
is  well  fitted  to  inspire  belief  and  trust  in  it,  and  to 
draw  out  the  heart  towards  its  Blessed  Author. 

1.  One  of  the  first  and  obvious  inferences,  then,  from 
the  subject  as  it  has  been  unfolded,  is,  that  an  atone- 
ment for  sin  is  no  arbitrary  requirement  on  the  part  of 
God.  If  the  positions  taken  in  this  discussion  are  cor- 
rect, the  doctrine  of  expiation  contains  a  metaphysique^ 
and  is  defensible  at  the  bar  of  philosophic  reason. 

One  great  obstacle  to  the  reception  of  the  evangelical 
system  lies  in  the  fact,  that  very  many  are  of  opinion 
that  the  scripture  method  of  forgiving  sin  is  needlessly 
embarrassed  by  a  sacrificial  expiation.  "  Why  should 
not  God,"  they  ask,  "forgive  the  creature  of  his  foot- 
stool in  the  same  manner  that  an  earthly  father  does  his 
child?  Why  does  he  not,  at  once,  and  without  any  of 
this  apparatus  of  atonement,  bid  the  erring  one  go  his 
way,  with  the  assurance  that  the  past  is  forgotten?  Is 
not  this  expiation,  even  though  made  by  the  Deity  him- 
self, after  all,  a  hinderance  rather  than  an  encourage- 
ment to  an  approach  to  the  eternal  throne?  Is  it  not, 
at  least,  something  that  is  not  strictly  necessary,  and 
might  have  been  dispensed  with?"  This  lurking  or 
open  doubt,  with  regard  to  I  he  rationality  and  intrinsic 
necessity  of  an  atonement  for  sin,  cuts  the  root  of  all 
evangelical  faith  in  a  large  class  of  men. 

Indeed,  it  may  be  a  question  whether  the  preacher  in 
Christian  lands  has  not  a  more  difficult  task  to  perform 
for  a  certain  class  of  minds,  in  reference  to  the  doctrine 
of  Christ  crucified,  than  the  missionary  in  pagan  lands 
has;  and  whether  Christian  theology  itself  would  not 
have  an  easier  labor  than  it  now  has,  to  vindicate  the 
ways  of  God  to  man,  in  the  respect  of  which  we  are 
speaking,  if  the  Old-Ethnic,  or  what  is  far  better,  the 


Tin:     DdCTRINK     OK     A'I'OXKMllNT.  311 

Old-Jewish  idoas  respecting  guilt  and  rotribnti(^n  were 
more  current  than  they  are  in  a  certain  class  in  nominal 
Christendom.  Taking  a  portion  of  men  in  ihe  luodern 
civilized  world  as  a  sample,  it  would  seem  as  if  the 
unregenerate  Christian  world  does  not  possess  such  a 
spontaneous  and  irrepressible  conviction  that  guilt  must 
be  punished,  as  did  the  old  unsophisticated  Pagan 
world.*  The  system  of  bloody  sacrifices,  an  emphatic 
acknowledgment  of  this  great  truth,  was  almost  univer- 
sal among  them  ;  and  the  doctrine  that  mere  sorrow  for 
transgression  is  a  sufficient  ground  for  its  forgiveness, 
had  little  force.  The  Grecian  Nemesis,  or  personifica- 
tion of  vindicative  justice,  was  a  divinity  to  whom  even 
Jove  himself  was  subject.  The  ancient  religious  insti- 
tutions and  ceremonials,  fanciful  and  irrational  as  they 
were  in  most  of  their  elements,  yet  distinctly  recognized, 
through  their  sacrificial  cultus,  the  amenability  of  man 
to  law,  and  his  culpability.  Add  to  this,  the  workings 
of  natural  conscience,  and  we  have,  even  in  the  midst 
of  polytheism,  quite  a  strong  influence  at  work  to  keep 
the  pagan  mind  healthy  and  sound  upon  the  relations 
of  guilt  to  justice.     Men  could  not  well  deny  the  need 


*  The  barbarians  of  Melita,  when  they  saw  the  venomous  beast  hang- 
ing upon  the  hand  of  Paul,  said  among  themseh-es  :  "  No  doubt  this  man 
is  a  murderer,  whom  though  he  hath  escaped  the  sea,  yet  vengeance  (Aikv) 
snffereth  not  to  live."  Their  etliical  instinct  was  sound  and  healthy,  though 
their  knowledge  of  the  facts  in  the  case  Avas  inaccurate.  But  when,  in  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  upon  a  spot  where  tlie  edifices  and 
emblems  of  government  cast  their  solemn  shadows,  a  human  being,  in  the 
heat  and  fury  of  his  heart,  slays  his  foe  to  mutilation  in  the  illegal  redress 
of  his  own  wrongs,  and  the  public  conscience  is  found  to  be  so  debauched 
tliat  only  one  in  one  hundred  of  the  resident  population  condemns  the 
deed,  the  comparison  between  Christendom  and  Paganism  is  humiliating. 
Such  occurrences  illustrate  the  difference  between  private  revenge  and 
public  justice,  and  prove  that  the  only  security  which  society  has  against 
the  former,  is  in  the  rigid  and  impartial  execution  of  the  latter. 


312  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

of  sill-expiation  before  whose  eyes  the  blood  of  the 
piaeular  victim  was  constantly  smoking,  in  accordance 
with  a  custom  that  had  come  down  from  their  ances- 
tors, and  which  fell  in  so  accordantly  with  the  workings 
of  a  remorseful  conscience. 

But  a  portion  of  the  modern  world  have  made  use 
of  Christianity  itself  to  undermine  the  very  foundations 
of  Christianity.  The  Christian  reUgion,  by  furnishing- 
that  one  great  sacrifice  and  real  atonement,  to  which  all 
other  sacrifices  look  and  point,  has  of  course  abolished 
the  system  of  external  sacrifices,  and  now  that  class  of 
minds  who  live  under  its  outward  and  civilizing  influ- 
ences without  appropriating  its  inward  and  spiritual 
blessings,  reject  the  legal  and  judicial  elements  which  it 
contains,  and  deny  the  necessity  of  satisfying  justice  in 
the  plan  of  redemption.  There  is  nothing  in  the  reli- 
gious rites  and  customs  under  which  they  live  to  elicit 
the  sense  of  guilt;  and  hence,  from  an  inadequate 
knowledge  of  their  own  consciences  and  a  defective 
apprehension  of  Christianity,  they  strenuously  combat 
that  fundamental  truth,  "  without  the  shedding  of  blood 
there  is  no  remission,"  upon  which  Christianity  itself  is 
founded,  and  in  reference  to  which  alone  it  has  any 
worth  or  preciousness  for  a  guilt-smitten  soul. 

The  same  tendency  to  underestimate  the  fact  of 
human  criminality,  and  the  value  of  the  piaeular  pro- 
vision for  it  in  the  gospel,  is  seen  also  in  the  individual. 
How  difficult  it  is  to  bring  the  person,  for  whose  spirit- 
ual interests  we  are  anxious,  to  see  himself  in  the  light 
of  law  and  condemnation  !  How  we  ourselves  shrink 
from  the  clear,  solemn  assertion  of  his  culpability,  and 
turn  aside  to  enlarge  upon  the  unworthiness  or  the  un- 
happiness  of  his  sin!  When  we  make  the  attempt  to 
charge  home  guilt  upon  him,  how  lacking  we  are  in 


THE     DOCTRINE    OF    ATONEMENT.  313 

that  tender  solemnity,  and  earnest  truthfulness  of  tone, 
which  make  the  impression  !  And,  even  if  we  have 
succeeded  in  wakening  his  conscience  to  a  somewhat 
normal  action  in  this  respect,  how  swiftly  does  he  elude 
the  terrible  but  righteous  feeling,  which  alone  can  pre- 
pare him  for  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus ! 

When  we  pass  up  into  the  Christian  experience,  we 
discover  the  same  fact  in  a  different  form  and  degree. 
How  difficult  does  the  believer  find  it  to  obtain  such  a 
clear  and  transparent  conception  of  his  own  guiltiness, 
that  the  atoning  work  of  his  Redeemer  becomes  all 
luminous  before  his  eyes,  and  he  knows  instantaneously 
that  he  needs  it,  and  that  it  is  all  he  needs  I  Usually, 
this  crystal  clearness  of  vision  is  reserved  for  certain 
critical  moments  in  his  religious  history,  when  he  must 
have  it  or  die.  Usually  it  is  the  hour  of  affliction,  or 
sickness,  or  death,  that  affords  this  rare  and  unutterably 
tranquillizing  view  of  the  guilty  self  and  the  dying 
Lord.  "  We  have  the  blood  of  Christ,"  said  the  dying 
Schleiermacher,  as,  in  his  last  moments,  he  began  to 
count  up  the  grounds  of  his  confidence  on  the  brink  of 
the  invisible  world.  Here  was  a  mind  uncommonly 
contemplative  and  profound;  that  had  made  the  spirit- 
ual world  its  home,  as  it  were,  for  many  long  years  of 
theological  study  and  reflection  ;  that,  in  its  tone  and 
temper,  seemed  to  be  prepared  to  pass  over  into  the 
supernatural  realm  without  any  misgivings  or  appre- 
hensions; that  had  mused  long  and  speculated  subtly 
upon  the  nature  of  moral  evil  ;  that  had  sounded  the 
depths  of  reason  and  revelation  with  no  short  plum^ 
met-line,  —  here  was  a  man  who,  now  that  death  had 
actually  come,  and  the  responsible  human  will  must 
now  encounter  Holy  Justice  face  to  face,  found  that 
nothing  but  the  bloody  the  atonement^  of  Jesus   Christ 

27 


314  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

could  calm  the  perturbations  of  his  planet-like  spirit. 
The  errors  and  inadequate  statements  of  his  theological 
system,  which  cluster  mostly  about  this  very  doctrine 
of  expiation,  are  tacitly  renounced  in  the  implied  con- 
fession of  guiltiness  and  need  of  atonement,  contained 
these  few  simple  words :  "  We  have  the  blood  of 
Christ." 

It  is  related  that  bishop  Butler,  in  his  last  days  draw- 
ing nearer  to  that  dread  tribunal  where  the  highest  and 
the  lowest  must  alike  stand  in  judgment,  trembled  in 
spirit,  and  turned  this  way  and  that  for  tranquillity  of  ** 
conscience.  One  of  his  clergy,  among  other  texts, 
quoted  to  him  the  words  :  "  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin."  A  flush  of  peace  and  joy  passed, 
like  the  bland  west  wind,  through  his  fevered  con- 
science, as  he  made  answer :  "  I  have  read  those  words 
a  thousand  times,  but  I  never  felt  their  meaning  as 
now."  And  who  does  not  remember  that  the  final  hours 
of  the  remarkably  earnest,  but  too  legal,  life  of  the 
great  English  Moralist  were  lighted  up  with  a  peace 
that  he  had  never  been  able  to  attain  in  the  days  of  his 
health,  by  the  evangelism  of  a  humble  curate? 

Such  facts  and  phenomena  as  these,  evince  that  it  is 
difficult  for  man  to  know  sin  as  guilt,  and  thoroughly 
to  apprehend  Christ  as  a  Priest  and  a  Sacrifice.  But 
one  of  the  best  correctives  of  this  tendency  to  under- 
estimate both  guilt  and  expiation,  is  found  in  the  clear 
perception  that  the  two  are  necessarily  related  to  each 
other,  and  that  consequently  the  death  of  the  Redeemer 
has  nothing  arbitrary  in  it.  When  one  is  convinced 
that  Christ  '•^must  needs  have  suffered,"  he  is  relieved 
from  the  doubts  respecting  the  meaning  and  efficacy  of 
the  atonement,  and  surrenders  his  conscience  directly  to 
its  pacifying  influence  and  power.     He  that  doubtelh  is 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.         315 

damned,  in  this  respect  also.  The  least  shaking  of  be- 
lief that  this  great  gospel  provision  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary, if  sinners  are  to  be  saved  ;  the  faintest  querying 
\vlieth(M-  it  may  not,  in  the  nature  of  things,  have  been 
a  superfluity  ;  so  far  as  it  tends  at  all,  tends  to  dull  the 
edge  of  man's  contrition,  and  destroy  the  keenness  of 
his  sense  of  the  Divine  pity. 

It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  the  Passion  of  the 
Redeemer  performs  two  functions.  It  not  merely  re- 
moves the  sense  of  guilt,  but  it  also  elicits  it.  The 
experience  of  the  Moravian  missionaries  is  frequently 
cited  to  prove  that  a  contemplation  of  the  sufferings  and 
dealh  of  Christ  sometimes  accomplishes  what  the  naked 
exhibition  of  the  law  fails  to  accomplish,  in  bringing 
men  to  a  sense  of  their  sinfulness.  The  stern  com- 
mandment had  been  applied  to  the  hardened  conscience 
of  the  savage,  and  iron  met  iron.  The  pity  of  a  dying, 
atoning  High  Priest  was  shown,  and  the  rock  gushed 
out  water.  And  such,  undoubtedly,  is  often  the  case  in 
the  history  of  conversions.  But  shall  we  not  find  in 
this  instance,  also,  that  the  force  and  energy  of  the  im- 
pression made,  results  from  a  perception,  more  or  less 
clear,  that  this  death  of  the  Substitute  was  inexorably 
necessary^  in  order  to  the  criminal's  release  ?  The  ope- 
rations of  the  human  mind  are  wonderfully  swift,  and 
difiicult  to  follow  or  trace.  Though  the  Esquimaux 
])assed  through  no  long  process  of  reasoning,  he  felt  in 
his  conscience  the  unavoidableness  of  that  mysterious 
Passion  of  that  mysterious  Person,  in  case  his  own 
wicked  soul  was  to  be  spared  the  just  inflictions  of  the 
future.  By  a  very  rapid  but  perfectly  legitimate  con- 
clusion, he  inferred  the  magnitude  of  his  guilt  from  the 
greatness  and  necessity  of  the  expiation.  For  suppose 
the  lurking  query,  to  which  we  have  alluded,  had  sprung 


316  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

up  in  his  mind  just  at  this  moment,  and  instead  of  il;c 
felt  necessity  of  an  atoning  sacrifice,  the  faint  queryini^ 
had  arisen  whether  his  sin  were  not  venial  without  the 
satisfaction  of  justice,  would  he  have  instantaneous /i/ 
melted  down  in  contrition  ?  So  long  as  men  are  pos- 
sessed with  the  feeling  that  the  New  Testament  methoil 
of  salvation  is  an  abitrary  one,  containing  elements  and 
provisions  that  might  have  been  different,  or  that  are 
superfluous^  they  will  receive  little  or  no  moral  impres- 
sion from  it.  But  when  they  see  plainly,  that  in  all  its 
parts  and  particles  it  refers  directly  to  what  is  ethical  in 
both  themselves  and  the  Eternal  Judge,  and  is  necessi- 
tated by  the  best  portion  of  their  own  constitution,  and 
by  the  perfect  nature  of  the  Godhead,  they  will  then 
draw  a  very  quick  and  accurate  inference  with  respect 
to  the  intrinsic  nature  of  that  transgression  which  has 
introduced  such  a  dire  and  stark  necessity.  When  a 
man  realizes  that  the  great  and  eternal  God  cannot 
pardon  his  individual  sins  except  through  a  passion  that 
wrings  great  drops  of  blood  from  every  pore  of  incar- 
nate Deity,  he  realizes  what  is  involved  in  the  trans- 
gression of  moral  law. 

2.  A  second  obvious  inference  from  the  doctrine,  that 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  is  a  satisfaction  for  both  the  Di- 
vine and  the  human  nature,  is,  that  such  an  atonement 
is  thorough  and  complete.  It  leaves  nothing  unsatisfied, 
or  dissatisfied,  either  in  God's  holy  nature  or  in  man's 
moral  sense.     The  work  is  ample  and  reliable. 

This  is  a  feature  of  the  utmost  value  and  importance 
in  a  scheme  of  Redemption.  For  no  method  will  be 
put  to  a  more  fiery  trial,  ultimately,  than  the  gospel 
method  of  salvation.  It  undergoes  some  severe  rests 
here  in  time.  The  dying-bed  draped  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  past  sins  and  transgressions,  the  pangs  of  re- 


THE    DOCTRIXE    OF    ATONEMENT.  317 

morso  shooting  through  the  conscience,  and  the  fears 
fur  the  future  undulating  through  the  whole  being, — 
all  this  solemn  experience  before  the  soul  shoots  the 
gulf  between  time  and  eternity,  calls  for  a  most  "  sover- 
eign remedy."  And  we  may  be  certain  that  the  disclos- 
ures and  revelations  that  are  to  be  made  in  the  other 
world,  and  particularly  upon  the  day  of  judgment,  will 
subject  the  atoning  work  of  the  Redeemer  to  tests  and 
trials  such  as  no  other  work,  and  especially  no  "dead 
work"  of  a  moralist,  can  endure  for  an  instant.  The 
energy  of  justice,  and  the  energy  of  conscience,  and  the 
power  of  memory,  and  the  searchings  of  God  the  Holy 
Ghost,  will  at  that  bar  reach  their  height  and  combina- 
tion ;  and  any  provision  that  shall  legitimately  counter- 
vail that  energy,  and  enable  the  human  soul  to  stand 
tranquil  under  such  revelations, and  beneath  such  claims, 
will  be  infinite  and  omnipotent  indeed.  But  the  be- 
liever need  never  fear  lest  the  work  of  the  Eternal 
Word,  who  was  made  flesh,  the  co-equal  Son  of  the 
Eternal  Father,  prove  inadequate  under  even  such 
crucial  tests.  He  needs  only  fear  lest  his  feeble,  waver- 
ing faith  grasp  it  too  insecurely.  If  he  does  but  set  his 
feet  upon  it,  he  will  find  it  the  Rock  of  Ages.  All 
judicial  claims  are  cancelled,  because  the  oblation  to 
justice  is  an  infinite  one.  "There  is  no  condemnation 
to  them  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus."* 

For  we  have  seen  that  the  very  mercy  of  God,  in  the 
last  analysis,  consists  in  the  entire  satisfaction  of  God's 
justice  by  God  himself,  for  the  helpless  criminal.  What 
method  of  Redemption  can  be  conceived  of,  more  per- 
fectly sure  and  trustworthy  than  this  ?     "  What  com- 


*  Michael  Anfrclo,  that  loftiest  and  most  religious  of  artists,  gives  ex- 
pression, in  the  following  sonnet,  to  this  natural  shrinking  of  the  soul  in 

2T 


318  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

passion,"  says  Anselm,  "  can  equal  the  words  of  God 
the  Father  addressed  to  the  sinner  condemned  to  eter- 
nal punishment,  and  having  no  means  of  redeeming 
himself:  'Take  my  only-begotten  Son,  and  make  him 
an  offering  for  thyself;'  or  the  words  of  the  Son  :  '  Take 
me  and  ransom  thy  soul?'  For  this  is  what  both  say, 
when  they  invite  and  draw  us  to  faith  in  the  gospel. 
And  can  anything  be  more  just  than  for  God  to  remit 
all  debt,  when  in  this  way  he  receives  a  satisfaction 
greater  than  all  the  debt,  provided  only  it  be  offered 
with  the  right  feeling  ?  "  *  "  The  pardon  of  sin,"  says  an 
old  English  divine,  "is  not  merely  an  act  of  mercy,  but 
also  an  act  of  justice  in  God."  By  this  he  means  that 
mercy  and  justice  are  concurrent  in  the  gospel  method 
of  Redemption,  —  mercy  satisfies  justice,  and  justice 
acknowledges  the  satisfaction.  "  What  abundant  cause 
of  comfort,"  he  adds,  "  may  this  be  to  all  believers,  that 
God's  justice  as  well  as  his  mercy  shall  acquit  them ! 
that  that  attribute  of  God,  at  the  apprehension  of  which 
they   are   wont  to  tremble,  should   interpose  on  their 

view  of  the  fiery  judicial  trial  that  awaits  it,  and  also  to  the  cheerful  reas- 
surance induced  by  the  recollection  of  Christ's  Passion  : 

"  Despite  thy  promises.  O  Lord,  't  would  seem 
Too  much  to  hope  that  even  love  like  Thine 
Can  overlook  my  countless  Avanderings: 
And  yet  Thy  hlood  helps  us  to  comprehend 
That  if  Thy  pangs  for  us  were  measureless, 
No  less  beyond  all  measure  is  thy  grace." 

Harford's  Life  ofAngelo,  II.  166. 

How  immensely  deeper  is  the  intuition  of  divine  things,  how  immensely 
clearer  is  the  insight  into  the  nature  and  mutual  relations  of  God  and  man, 
which  is  indicated  by  such  a  sonnet  from  the  soul  of  him  who  poised  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's,  and  crowded  the  frescoes  of  the  Sistine  cliapel  with 
grandeur  and  beauty,  than  that  of  the  modern  brood  of  dilettanti,  as  ex- 
pressed in  much  of  the  current  literature,  and  the  current  art. 
*   Cur  Dens  homo  ?  II.  20. 


THE    DOCTRIXt:    OF    ATONEMENT.  319 

behalf,  and  plead  for  them  !  And  yet  through  the  all- 
sufficient  expiation  and  atonement  that  Christ  hath 
made  for  our  sins,  this  mystery  is  effected,  and  justice 
itself  brought  over,  from  being  a  formidable  adversary, 
to  be  our  party,  and  to  plead  for  us.  Therefore  the 
apostle  tells  us  that  God  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive 
us  our  sins."* 

Consonant  with  this  is  the  well-known  language  of 
the  elder  Edwards  :  "  It  is,"  he  says,  "  so  ordered  now, 
that  the  glory  of  the  attribute  of  Divine  justice  requires 
the  salvation  of  those  that  believe.  The  justice  of  God 
that  [irrespective  of  the  atonement]  required  man's 
damnation,  and  seemed  inconsistent  with  his  salvation, 
now  [having  respect  to  the  atonement]  as  much  re- 
quires the  salvation  of  those  that  believe  in  Christ  [and 
thereby  appropriate  the  atonement],  as  ever  before  it 
required  their  damnation.  Salvation  is  an  absolute 
debt  to  the  believer  from  God,  so  that  he  may  in  jus- 
tice demand  it  on  the  ground  of  what  his  Surety  has 
done."t    Do  these  last  words  sound  rash  ?     But  scruti- 

*  Bp.  Ezekiel  Hopkins's  Exposition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.    "Works,  I.  124. 

t  Works,  IV.  150.  New  York  Ed.  For  the  sotcriolofrv  of  this  eminent 
writer,  see  his  discourses  on  "  Justification  by  Faith  alone."  "  The  wisdom 
of  God  displayed  in  the  way  of  salvation,"  and  "  Satisfaction  for  sin." 
Amons:  his  positions  are  the  following  :  Justification  frees  from  all  obliga- 
tion to  eternal  punishment  (IV.  78,  104,  150).  Christ's  suffering  is  equiv- 
alent to  the  eternal  suffering  of  a  finite  creature  (IV.  101,  551).  Christ 
experienced  the  wrath  of  God  (IV.  182,  195).  God's  wrath  is  appeased  by 
the  atonement  (IV.  142).  God  cannot  accept  an  atonement  that  falls  short 
of  the  full  claims  of  justice  (IV.  94).  The  voluntary  sul)Stitute  is,  in  this 
capacity,  under  obligation  to  suffer  the  punishment  due  to  the  sinner  (IV. 
9G.  137).  Justice  does  not  abate  any  of  its  claims  in  the  plan  of  redemp- 
tion (IV.  140,  552).  Christ  satisfied  "revenging,"  or  distributive,  justice 
(IV.  1.50,  189). 

S'lnviel  Hopkins  is  equally  explicit  in  maintaining  the  theory  of  a  strict 
satisfaction,  as  is  evident  from  the  follo^^^ng  :  "  One  important  and  neces- 
sary part  of  the  work  of  the  Redeemer  of  man  was  to  make  atonement 


320  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

nize  Ihem.  "  Salvation  is  an  absolute  debt  to  the 
believer  on  the  ground  of  what  Ids  Sure t?/  has  done;^''  not 
on  the  ground,  therefore,  of  anything  that  the  believer 
has  done.  It  is  merely  saying,  that  the  soul  which  feels 
its  own  desert  of  damnation,  may  plead  the  merit  of 
Christ  with  entire  confidence  that  it  cancels  all  legal 
claims,  and  that  there  is  nothing  outstanding  and  un- 

for  their  sins,  by  suffering  in  his  own  person  the  penalty  or  curse  of  the  laic, 
under  which,  by  transgression,  they  had  fallen  ....  The  sufferings  of 
Christ  were,  therefore,  for  sin,  and  consequently  must  be  the  evil  which  sin 
deserves,  and  that  to  which  the  sinner  was  exposed,  and  which  he  must  have 
suffered  had  not  Christ  suffered  it  in  his  stead,  or  that  which  is  equivalent. 
....  The  Mediator  did  not  suffer  precisely  the  same  kind  of  pain,  in  all 
respects,  which  the  sinner  suffers  when  the  curse  is  executed  on  him.  He  did 
not  suffer  that  particular  kind  of  pain  which  is  the  necessary  attendant,  or 
natural  consequence,  of  being  a  sinner,  and  which  none  but  the  sinner  can 
suffer.  But  this  is  only  a  circumstance  of  the  punishment  of  sin,  and  not 
of  the  essence  of  it.  The  whole  penalty  of  the  law  may  he  sxffered,  and  the  evil 
suffered  may  be  as  much,  and  as  great,  without  siffa-ing  that  particular  sort  of 
pain.  Therefore,  Christ,  though  without  sin,  might  suffer  the  whole  penalty, 
—  that  is,  as  much  and  as  great  evil  as  the  law  denounces  against  transgres- 
sion. The  evil  which  sinners  may  suffer,  on  whom  the  penalty  of  the  law 
is  inflicted,  may,  and  doubtless  will,  differ  in  many  circumstances,  and  not 
be  precisely  of  the  sa-me  kind  in  all  respects,  and  yet  each  one  of  them 
suffer  the  penalty  of  the  same  law  ....  The  evil  of  the  sufferings  of 
Christ,  being,  in  the  magnitude  of  it,  commensurate  with  the  dignity  and 
Avorth  of  his  person,  is  equal  to,  is  as  great  as,  the  evil  which  is  threatened  to 
the  transgressors  of  the  lata,  and  as  great  as  the  sinner  deserves  ;  yea,  it  is  as 
great  as  the  endless  sufferings  of  mankind  ....  The  curse  of  the  law 
consists  in  the  infinite  evil,  pain,  and  suffering  which  sin  deserves.  He  who 
suffers  this  for  sin,  suffers  the  curse  of  the  law,  is  accursed,  or  made  a 
curse.  Jesus  Christ  siffered  this  curse,  the  infinite  natural  evil  in  which  the 
pencdty  or  the  curse  of  the  law  consists ;  and  in  suffering  it  for  sinners,  and  in 
their  stead,  was  made  a  curse.  This  might  be  consistent  with  his  having 
the  approbation  of  the  Father,  and  his  favor  and  love  to  the  highest  degree. 
The  displeasure  of  God,  which  was  the  cause  of  his  sufferings  when  he 
voluntarily  took,  and  stood  in,  the  place  of  sinners,  was  displeasure  with 
sin  and  the  sinner,  and  not  with  him  who  suffered,  the  state  of  the  case  be- 
ing fully  understood  by  the  spectators  ....  It  is  evident  from  scripture, 
that  the  law  of  God  does  admit  of  a  substitute,  both  in  obeying  the  precepts, 
and  suffering  the  penalty  of  it."  —  Hopkins's  Works,  I.  pp.  321 — 341.  Doc< 
trinal  Tract  Society's  Ed. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.  321 

covered  by  that  Divine  atonement  upon  wliicli  it  relies 
for  justification.  It  is  simply  asserting  that  God  incar- 
nate, the  redeeming  Deity,  can  demand,  upon  principles 
of  justice,  the  release  of  a  soul  that  trusts  solely  in  his 
atoning  death  ;  because  by  that  death  he  has  compJeiehj^ 
and  not  partially,  satisfied  eternal  justice  for  it,  and  in 
its  stead.*     They  are  the  bold  words  of  a  very  cautious 

*  It  is  needless  to  remark,  that  Edwards  does  not  con<"e<lo  tliat  the  mere 
atonement  itself  gives  any  and  every  man  a  claim  upon  God  for  the  beuf^jils 
of  the  atonemeiit,  —  as  is  sometimes  argued  by  tlie  advocates  of  universal 
salvation.  God  is  under  no  obligation  to  make  an  atonement  for  the  sin  of 
the  world  ;  and,  a/ler  he  has  made  one,  he  is  at  perfect  liberty  to  ajipli/  it  to 
whom  he  pleases,  or  not  to  apply  it  at  all.  The  atonement  is  his,  and  not 
man's,  and  he  may  do  what  he  will  with  his  own.  Hence,  according  to 
Edwards,  two  distinct  acts  of  sovereignty  on  the  part  of  God  are  necessary 
in  order  to  a  soul's  salvation.  The  providing  of  an  atonement  in  the  first 
place,  is  a  sovereign  act ;  and  then  the  application,  or  giving  over,  of  the 
atonement,  when  provided,  to  any  particular  elected  sinner,  is  a  second  act 
of  sovereignty.  The  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ  constitute  the  atone- 
ment ;  and  even  if  not  a  single  soul  should  appropriate  it  by  tlie  ad  of  faith, 
it  would  be  the  same  expiatory  oblation  still,  though  unai)plied.  Hence, 
the  second  of  these  sovereign  acts  is  as  necessary  as  the  first,  in  order  to 
salvation.  But  when  both  of  these  acts  of  sovereignty  have  taken  jilace,  — 
when  the  atonement  has  been  made,  and  has  actually  been  given  over  to 
and  accepted  by  an  individual,  —  then,  says  Edwards,  it  is  a  matter  of  strict 
justice  that  the  penal  claims  of  the  law  l)e  not  exacted  from  the  believer, 
because  this  would  be  to  exact  them  twice ;  once  from  Christ,  and  once 
from  one  to  whom,  by  the  supposition,  Christ's  satisfaction  has  actually 
been  made  over  by  a  sovereign  act  of  God.  For  God  to  do  this,  avouUI  be 
to  pour  contempt  upon  his  own  atonement.  It  would  be  a  confession  that 
his  own  provision  is  insufficient  to  sati>fy  the  claims  of  law,  and  needs  to  be 
supplemented  by  an  additional  infliction  upon  the  believer.  It  would  be 
an  acknowledgment  that  the  atonement,  when  it  comes  to  be  actually  tested 
in  an  individual  instance,  fails  to  satisfy  the  claims  of  justice,  and  therefore 
is  an  entire  failure.  The  sum  of  money  which  was  given  to  the  poor 
debtor,  with  the  expectation  that  it  was  large  enough  completely  to  liqui- 
date his  debt,  is  found  to  fall  short,  and  leaves  him  still  in  the  debtor's 
])rison,  from  which  he  cannot  come  out  "  until  he  has  paid  the  uttermost 
farthing." 

That  this  is  a  correct  representation  of  the  views  of  Edwards  is  evident 
from  the  following  answer  which  he  gives  to  the  question  :  Wliat  docs 
God's  sovereignty  in  the  salvation  of  man  imply  ?  —  "  God's  sovereignty 


322  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

and  accurate  thinker  ;  but  are  they  any  bolder  than  that 
challenging  jubilant  shout  of  St.  Paul :  "  Who  is  he 
that  condemeth  ?  It  is  Christ  that  died."  As  if,  fling- 
ing his  voice  out  into  all  worlds,  and  all  universes,  he 
asked  :  "  What  claims  are  those  which  the  blood  of  the 
Eternal  Sou  of  God  has  not  been  able  to  satisfy  ?  Is  the 
atonement  of  the  great  God  Himself  not  equal  to  the 
demands  of  his  law  ?  Is  the  Deity  feebler  upon  the  side 
of  his  expiation,  than  upon  the  side  of  his  retribution  ?" 
It  is  a  false  humility,  and  not  unmingled  with  a  legal 
spirit,  that  would  prevent  the  believer  from  joining  in 
these  bold  and  confident  statements  respecting  the  am- 
plitude and  completeness  of  the  work  of  his  atoning 
Lord  and  God.  He  need  be  under  no  concern  lest  he 
underestimate  the  attribute  of  justice,  if  he  make  this 
hearty  and  salient  evangelical  feeling  his  own.  He  dis- 
parages no  attribute  of  God,  when  he  magnifies  and 
makes  his  boast  in  the  atonement  of  God.  Christ  was 
equal  to  all  he  undertook  ;  and  he  undertook  to  satisfy 
the  claims  of  the  Divine  law  for  the  sin  of  the  world, 
down  to  the  least  jot  and  tittle  ;  to  pay  the  immense  debt 

in  tlie  salvation  of  men  implies  that  God  can  either  bestow  salvation  on  any 
of  the  ciiildren  of  men,  or  refuse  it,  without  any  prejudice  to  the  glory  of 
any  of  his  attributes,  except  where  he  has  been  pleased  to  declare  that  he  will  or 
will  not  bestow  it.  It  cannot  be  said  absolutely,  as  the  case  now  stands,  that 
God  can,  without  any  prejudice  to  the  honor  oi  any  of  his  attributes,  bestow 
salvation  on  an 3^  of  the  ciiildren  of  men,  or  refuse  it,  because  concerning 
some,  God  has  been  pleased  to  declare  either  that  he  will  or  that  he  will  not 
bestow  salvation  on  them ;  and  thus  to  hind  himself  by  his  own  promise. 
And  concerning  some  he  has  been  pleased  to  declare  that  he  never  will  be- 
stow salvation  upon  them;  viz.,  those  who  have  committed  the  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Hence,  as  the  case  now  stands,  he  is  obliged  ;  he  cannot 
bestow  salvation  in  one  case,  or  refuse  it  in  the  other,  without  prejudice  to 
the  honor  of  his  truth.  But  God  exercised  his  sovereignty  in  making  these 
declarations.  God  was  not  ol)liged  to  promise  that  lie  would  save  all  who 
believe  in  Christ ;  nor  was  he  obliged  to  declare  that  he  who  committed  the 
sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  should  never  be  forgiven.  But  it  pleased  him  so 
to  d<rlare."  —  Edwards's  Works,  IV.  530.  N.  Y.  Ed. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT.         323 

to  ihe  uttermost  farthing.  "Think  not,"  he  says,  '•  that 
I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law  or  the  prophets.  I  am 
not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fvlfd.  For  verily  I  say 
unto  you,  Till  heaven  and  earth  pass,  one  jot  or  one 
tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the  law  till  all  be  ful- 
filled." And  the  incarnate  Deity  did  what  he  under- 
took. He  had  a  view  of  the  extent  and  spirituality  of 
law,  and  of  the  demerit  of  sin,  such  as  no  finite  mind 
is  capable  of  entertaining,  and  he  knew  whereof  he 
affirmed  when,  at  the  close  of  his  life  of  sorrow  and  his 
death  of  passion  and  agony,  he  bowed  his  head  and 
gave  up  the  ghost,  with  the  words,  significant  beyond  all 
conception  :  "//f  is  finished^  —  the  oblation  is  complete." 
Jesus  Christ,  the  God-Man,  in  the  garden  of  Gethsem- 
ane  and  on  the  middle  cross  of  Calvary,  had  a  con- 
ception of  the  rigor  of  justice  and  the  exaction  of  law, 
such  as  no  human  or  angelic  mind  can  ever  have  in 
equal  degree  ;  and  the  believer  may  be  certain  that  when 
He  invites  him  to  rest  his  complete  justification,  and 
the  entire  satisfaction  of  all  judicial  claims,  before  that 
law,  upon  what  He  has  wrought  in  reference  to  it,  he  is 
not  invited  to  a  procedure  that  will  be  a  disparagement, 
or  dishonor,  either  to  law  or  to  justice. 

Man  is  not  straitened  in  the  atoning  work  of  incar- 
nate Deity.  He  is  straitened  in  his  own  blind  and  un- 
believing soul.  He  only  needs  to  take  a  profound  view 
of  justice,  a  profound  view  of  sin,  and  a  profound  view 
of  God's  atonement  for  it,  to  come  out  into  a  region  of 
peace,  liberty,  and  joy  unspeakable.  Feeble  views  upon 
any  one  of  these  subjects  debilitate  his  Christianity. 
He'  should  distinctly  see  how  sacred  is  the  nature  of 
justice,  and  how  indefeasible  are  its  claims.  He  should 
distinctly  feel  the  full  impression  and  energy  of  this 
attribute.     Then  he  should  as  distinctly  see  how  com- 


324  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ATONEMENT. 

plete  and  perfect  is  the  liquidation  of  these  holy  claims, 
by  the  death  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God, —  that  au- 
gust Personage  denominated  by  the  prophet  as  "  the 
Wonderful,  the  Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Ever- 
lasting Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace." 

That  very  interesting  mystic  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
Henry  Von  Suso,  enlarging  in  his  poetic  manner  upon 
the  compassion  of  God  towards  a  sinful  world,  tells  us 
that  the  "  blood  of  Christ  is  full  of  love  and  red  as  a 
rose."*  This  roseate  conception  of  the  atonement  is 
not  the  one  that  will  meet  the  necessities  of  man's  con- 
science, in  the  solemn  hour  of  his  mental  anguish  and 
his  moral  fear.  There  is  love  unutterable  in  that  blood, 
but  it  was  wrung  from  a  heart  to  which  all  merely  sen- 
timental affection  was  as  alien  as  it  is  to  the  vengeance 
of  eternal  fire.  He  only  can  appreciate  and  understand 
that  love  of  principle,  that  love  of  self-immolation,  who 
sympathizes  thoroughly  with  that  regard  for  the  holiness 
and  justice  of  God,  united  with  compassion  for  lost 
souls,  that  led  the  Redeemer  to  undertake  the  full  expia- 
tion of  human  guilt. 

Whoever  is  granted  this  clear  crystalline  vision  of  the 
atonement,  will  die  in  peace,  and  pass  through  all  the 
unknown  transport  and  terror  of  the  day  of  doom  with 
serenity  and  joy.  It  ought  to  be  the  toil  and  study  of 
the  believer  to  render  his  conceptions  of  the  work  of 
Christ  more  vivid,  simple,  and  vital.  For  whatever  may 
be  the  extent  of  his  religious  knowledge  in  other  direc- 
tions ;  whatever  may  be  the  worth  of  his  religious  expe- 
rience in  other  phases  ;  there  is  no  knowledge  and  no 
experience  that  will  stand  him  in  such  stead,  in  those 
moments  that  try  the  soul,  as  the  experience  of  the  pure 
sense  of  guilt  quenched  by  the  pure  blood  of  Christ. 

*  "  Minnerichen,  rosenfarbcncn  Blute." 


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